


Superheroes Meet Supernatural

by professorandre1228



Series: Winchesters and the Avengers [1]
Category: Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Arrested!Winchesters, Baby is home, Bitch!Crowley, Fallen angels attack, Gen, Possessed!Avenger, Whump!Sam, protective!Dean, protective!Sam, sick!Sam, whump!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 21:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 78,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21186071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professorandre1228/pseuds/professorandre1228
Summary: After the trials in season 8, Dean needs help saving his brother. Lucky for him, the hospital where they end up just happens to have a visiting doctor who might be the one person in the world who can save him.  Unluckily for him, the angels are coming for the brothers, to find Castiel.  When Dr. Bruce Banner and Thor arrive to save the day, Dean knows Winchester luck strikes again.





	1. When Needs Must

**Author's Note:**

> 1st fanfiction ever. Constructive criticism always welcome. Beta'd by my daughter, who is a longtime Wattpad poster

The road was dark as the Impala’s engine purred loudly as it wound through the night, nearly roaring. There was a sense of urgency in the motion as the view slid past too fast to identify anything more than the lines on the road itself, softly lit by the muted headlights. Even the interior of the car was dark, the dashboard lights dimmer than normal, only barely illuminating the faces of the men in the front seat. The man in the passenger seat spoke quickly as he flipped through newspapers and print outs in his lap, his long legs bent acutely, putting his knees higher than his hips, creating a slant that kept the papers from slipping to the floorboard. He absently pulled his long brown hair behind his ear before it could fall into his eyes. He was arguing that it made no sense that the angels falling was being misinterpreted the world over as only a spontaneous global meteor shower. 

He paused when he realized that the driver wasn’t responding. There should have been some sign that the man was even listening, but the driver just continued his hard stare out the windshield and said nothing. Both of his hands were steadfastly on the steering wheel, right hand tapping a staccato on the leather. The bright green eyes were darkened as he appeared to be deep in introspection.

“What’s going on, man? You okay?” the passenger said with a frown. The driver said nothing for a moment, then replied softly.

“Me? Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just…,” he paused and glanced over at the hazel eyes of other man, who appeared to be taken aback slightly. The passenger waited for a moment before breaking the silent pause.

“It's just we got a major freakin' crap fest on our hands.” He scoffs at his own statement. “Yeah, tell me about it. Thousands of superpowered dicks touching down, and we got no idea where to start.” He turned back to the papers, not seeing the driver clench his stubbled jaw and take a deep breath, one hand coming off the steering wheel to rub his lower face.

“Angels aren't our problem right now, okay? Or demons, or Metatron, or whatever the hell happened to Cas,” the driver finally said forcefully. He looked over again at the younger man, the anger in his voice giving way to the worry lines around his eyes and on his forehead.

His passenger scoffed again and crinkled his eyes, the left side of his mouth coming up in a small open-mouthed smirk.

“Why? Because we hugged it out in that church and – and now we're gonna go to Disneyland? Dean, you said it yourself, we're not gonna sleep till this is done.” He turned more in the seat to face the driver so he could put more focus on him as they talk. He’s honestly trying to get to the root of this so they can get back on the same page.

The driver, Dean, glances out the window to his left as he says, “I know.”

With a shake of his hair, longer than Dean’s by quite a bit, his eyebrows furrowed further.

“So. What’s the problem?” While he was prepared to listen to the driver as he knew there had to be something he was missing, what Dean said shocked him.

“You.” 

It was definitely not the answer he expected. They had been to this point before, where Dean had blamed him for whatever bad thing was happening. And, in reality, he mostly agreed that many of those times had been the result of his own very bad decisions. But this, there was no way this was his fault. 

Dean wasn’t finished.

“Look,” he continued. “There’s no easy way to say this, okay? But something happened back there in the church. And I don’t know what. I don’t know why. You’re dying, Sam.” Dean didn’t even look back to the road as they whipped through the dark night because he was staring at Sam with a look of scared intensity.

Sam couldn’t even blink, just staring in shock, hearing his own heartbeat in his ears. He stared open-mouthed at his brother, trying to make sense, to make the words connect to the situation. Finally, he took a breath and tried to make Dean crack around the obvious joke/prank that this had to be.

“Shut up,” Sam said with a half smile but Dean just continued to stare at him, no levity in his green gaze. His heartbeat got louder and then behind the steady thumping beat was a slow, recurring beep that matched each heartbeat.

And then Sam blinked.

****

“Sam…,” the rough entreaty was barely above a whisper in the off-white room where Sam lay in a hospital bed, eyes closed. The lines and tubes attached to his body provided oxygen through a nasal cannula, fluids via an IV line in crook of his elbow, a feeding tube running up his nostril, and monitoring lines attached to various parts, all laid against Sam’s skin, the fading tan not hiding the pallor underneath. The sunken cheeks and lank hair pulled behind his ears spoke of lack of health. There was no movement from the body in the bed except the slow, shallow rise and fall of his chest under the thin hospital shirt and light blanket covering him from chest down, his hands laying lax on each side of his hips, which were covered by institution scrub-type pants. 

On Sam’s left, Dean sat in one of the badly patterned chairs usually found in long term hospital rooms. He was leaning forward, elbows on the knees of his worn jeans, work boots tapping nervously. His rough hands were clasped together, cupping his chin and covering his mouth. The dark circles under his eyes were evident, only eclipsed by the obvious red puffiness from recent tears. Dean’s eyes were visually begging his brother to wake up, to move, to do anything besides lay there. They roamed from his face to the monitors down to his hands, and back to his brother’s face.

When the door to Sam’s hospital room opened behind him, Dean was up and facing the doctor immediately, hoping against hope that there was some good news. But from the look on the doctor’s face, he was sure that once again, the universe had boned them.

“The MRI shows massive internal damage affecting many of the major organs,” the doctor began, flipping up a few pages on the medical chart he held, “Oxygen to the brain has been severely deprived. The coma is the result of the body doing everything in its limited power to protect itself from further harm.” Dean ran his trembling hand down his face, his chin stubble rasping.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” The doctor frowned at the man’s statement, glancing down at the exposed page.

“Mr. Dougherty…,” he said after a deep breath, “I’m not sure where or how he was exposed to this much radiation, but it should have killed him long before now.” He looked expectantly at Dean but continued when he saw no explanation forthcoming for the exposure. “I know it’s an extremely rare confluence of events, but we happen to have a visiting doctor here today who is a leading expert on radiation exposure, more specifically gamma radiation. While we cannot directly pinpoint your brother’s type of radiation poisoning with our limited resources, this specialist might be able to at least give us more insight.” 

Dean flicked his eyes up quickly, a faint glimmer of hope, his hand frozen half off his chin.

“Please,” Dean blurted, “can he see him now? I don’t know how we’ll pay but I’ll do anything, whatever it takes. I’ll rob a bank if I have to….” The doctor held up a hand and closed his eyes briefly.

“I already have a call in for him to come up for a consult, but please, don’t get your hopes up. Your brother’s current window of success may be far too small. If he continues on his current trajectory, the machines might keep him alive, but….” The doctor shrugged.

“He’ll be dead.” Dean took a very deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly. “If there’s even a chance, if this visiting specialist or whatever can help at all, I’ll be more than grateful. Do you know when he’s coming by?”

“Dr. Banner has a very full schedule today but I’ll did express the urgency in my request.” Dean just nodded and turned back to look at his all too still brother. As the doctor turned to leave, Dean walked over to the window that looked out over the city. And there he stood for the next hour, staring out at the filtered sunshine, not seeing anything beyond the reflection of the room, him and his brother. 

Finally, Dean couldn’t stand it anymore. He began to pace, back to Sam’s bedside, then back to the window, then finally back to the chair where he perched on the edge, dropping his head into his hands. His shoulders shook mildly and when he looked up, there were tears in his eyes that were beginning to track down his cheeks.

“Sam, come on, man,” he pleaded with the silent figure, “You gotta fight this. Don’t die on me, okay?” More tears silently dropped from his lower lashes. He absently wiped them away and sniffled. Getting no reaction, he glanced at the door before getting up slowly, as though weighed down, and stepped into the corridor. 

Dean looked up and down the hallway, not seeing Sam’s doctor, Dr. Grant, just the nurses’ station and a few other staff and patients moving through, in their own closed off worlds of pain and trauma. He closed the door to Sam’s room, put his arm up on the wall in front of him, leaning his forehead on his forearm.

He whispered/prayed to Cas. He called to his friend, told him about Sam. He tried to convey that he wasn’t mad at Cas for his part in the angels’ fall, that his sole concern right now was his brother, that Sam was dying and he was here alone. He needed his best friend by his side, even if he couldn’t do anything for Sam.

He waited quietly for a moment, waited to hear that familiar rustle of wings, that rough, plainspoken voice. But nothing changed. He looked around expectantly. When there was no answer to his prayer, his face fell a bit more than it already had. He closed his eyes slowly, took a deep breath, and continued to the chapel down the hall. Seated, he wrung his hands and looked up the muted stained-glass window at the front.

Another deep breath before he bowed his head. He took that moment to steady himself, and then he sent an all-call prayer.

“Okay, listen up. This one goes out to any angel with their ears on. This is Dean Winchester…,” and here he swallowed before plunging ahead. “And I need your help. The deal is this. Linwood Memorial Hospital, Randolph, New York. The first one who can help me gets my help in return and you know that ain’t nothin’. Hell, it’s no secret that we haven’t always seen eye to eye. But you know that I am good for my word. And, uh, I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t needing, so…Please.” That last part was hard for him, but it was for Sam. Always, anything for Sam.

He wandered down to the parking garage after his all-call prayer, knowing any response would not be instant. He rapped his knuckles on the trunk of the black Impala and listened. No response.

“Crowley, listen up, you son of a bitch. One for yes, two for no. You alive?” Still no response. “Come on, don’t be a pouter.” After a slight hesitation, there was a single bang from inside the trunk and Dean nodded. “There we go.”

Before he could turn, a man grabbed him from behind and held a long, oddly shaped silver blade against his throat.

“You prayed?”

****

One dead angel later, he had come to a tentative agreement with the battered but living one who had killed his attacker. Ezekiel was his savior’s name. Hopefully he was Sam’s too. They walked back up to Sam’s room, discussing the latest happenings and both wondering what had happened to Cas. Ezekiel claimed to be on the side of the humans, while the first angel had only been angry about being thrown from Heaven and wanted revenge on the one they all believed responsible, namely Castiel.

Back inside the room, Dean and Ezekiel found Dr. Grant and another, shorter doctor standing next to the prone man, reviewing his chart. When the new doctor looked up at them, Dean almost thought he saw a green tinge to his skin and definitely green eyes, but it was a blink later and the green was gone, brown eyes greeting him. Dean chalked it up to the adrenaline jolt he got from realizing the specialist had arrived and immediately went over to introduce himself. While he had found an angel to help, that was no guarantee, so he would keep exploring all avenues.

He was introduced as Dr. Banner, the visiting doctor who was a specialist on gamma radiation. The shorter man had curly, salt and pepper hair, wore glasses that he pushed back up his nose, a standard doctor’s coat, open over a rumpled button-down shirt, and wrinkled slacks that appeared a few sizes too large for him. Dr. Banner had nervous energy to spare, shifting every few minutes and glancing around the room as surreptitiously as he could. He appeared to flinch back a little when Ezekiel came in, but Dean thought it was probably because of the slightly battered appearance of the man/angel. 

“Mr. Dougherty…,” Dr. Banner said as the other doctor stepped back from where they had been reviewing the chart together. He eyed Dean. The man in front of him was nervous but carried himself like a military member just returned from combat. He was very muscled under the t-shirt and open flannel overshirt. From what he could see of the brother in the bed, he was also very fit. Both appeared to have a physique gained for years of hard, physical labor instead of targeted workouts in a gym. Where this man had short, brown hair, the brother’s hair was chestnut, long, nearly shoulder length. They did, however, have familial features, like the cleft chin. “I’ve reviewed the test results and current readouts and I’ve got to say, this is absolutely astounding. Your brother should not still be alive, much less breathing without a ventilator.”

“That’s Sammy.” Dean looked over to his brother with a small, sad smile. “He’s a survivor.” Dr. Banner also looked over at him. The young man reminded him of the images he had seen of when Steve had been revived after being pulled from the ice, so still and pale, barely alive.

“While I’m not sure anything will make a difference at this point, I have been developing a combination radiation decontamination and rapid treatment compound that I’d like to try with your permission. It is very experimental, and I caution you it’s not a quick fix, if it even works. There could be complications that we can’t yet foresee as it is untested. But I’m willing to attempt it, if only to give this your brother a chance.” Dean stared wide-eyed at the specialist as Dr. Banner held up one hand. “And before you say anything, wait until after we see if this works at all. I will, however, need to know how and where he picked up this much radiation. It might help me to better treat him and possibly help others avoid the same problem in the future.” He sensed Dean’s trepidation at that answer, a dark look falling over his face as he gazed at his brother. Dean warred internally before finally nodding, again running his hand over his lower face.

“I’ll tell you anything you need to know if it’ll help save my brother.” Bruce nodded back at him.

“We’ll need to move him to my facility in New York City. I need access to my lab there, as well as my colleague’s help. I’d like to get him transferred as soon as possible so we can get started. We might not have much time.” Dean nodded quickly. “It’s a rather unique situation with a very unique possible solution but this might be his only chance.”

“Anything you say, doc. Let’s do it,” Dean said, grasping Bruce’s hand with both of his, conveying his thanks and relief through this simple, honest gesture. Bruce nodded briefly again and then glanced at the first doctor.

“Dr. Grant and I will get the paperwork ready and I’ll arrange transport. We can discuss the particulars during the transfer. We’ll be back within 30 minutes with the paperwork and air transport. Rest easy until then.” Bruce smiled hesitantly at Dean as he gestured for Dr. Grant to precede him from the room.

Bruce knew he had to move fast. He had his doubts he could save the patient, but damned if he wasn’t going to try. How he had received the radiation poisoning was an intriguing question but there would be time later to delve further. The Other Guy had felt the gamma radiation latent in the man as soon as he had walked in. It wasn’t an exposure risk to anyone else, but the fact that it was detectable by Hulk made Bruce more determined. The fact that this man was still alive with such astounding blood work results and obvious internal damage just made the mystery deeper.

Quickly walking away from Dr. Grant after being thanked for taking on the case, he pulled his phone from his pocket to call Tony. He passed along the basics and requested immediate transport, promising to forward any blood work and test results as soon as he got to his laptop. Tony confirmed starting preparations in the infirmary and lab to receive the patient and told him that Natasha was on her way with the jet. She would land on the helipad in around 20 minutes. He asked if he needed anything else before his return, but Bruce assured him the patient was in a coma, stable for the moment, and that he’d confer any further needs via Jarvis on the jet.

Dean had one hand on his hip and the other hand brushed through his dark blond hair. He almost laughed in relief and then turned to see Ezekiel standing there. The laughter died in his throat when he saw the contemplative, sad, almost angry look the angel had on his face. The angel quickly realized Dean was looking at him and pulled himself together.

“I’m sorry, but I thought that was why you called, Dean.” Ezekiel sounded hurt. “I risked my life to come and help you and your brother. I’ll be hunted for helping the Winchesters. I don’t mean to sound selfish. I am happy if this doctor can heal him, but Sam could get drastically worse before this experimental treatment does anything useful. You heard that man. It will be a long process and my healing would be more immediate. Please let me see if I can help.”

Dean could see the logic but had heard what Cas had said about the damages done by the Trials being things that even he couldn’t heal. Dean was a man of his word though and gestured Ezekiel towards Sam. As the angel reached out a hand over Sam’s chest, Dean’s phone rang in his pocket.

He watched a pale glow extend from Ezekiel’s palm to his brother as it hovered over him before he stepped back into the hallway to answer the unrecognized number. 

It was Cas calling from a pay phone somewhere in the middle of the midwest. He told Dean how Metatron had tricked him and stolen his grace, leaving him as a human before depositing him back on Earth to experience life as one. Cas shrugged off Dean’s worry that his newly human friend would not know how to take care of himself without his grace, telling Dean to focus on Sam. He told Cas about his call to the angels, which he had not heard without his grace, and that he had Ezekiel there now with them. Cas was able to confirm that Ezekiel was indeed one of the good angels that could be trusted.

Before more could be said, there was a high-pitched ringing throughout the hospital and the walls began to shake mildly. Dean yelled for Cas to get to the bunker with Kevin so he’d be safe, and they’d meet up there as soon as they could. He slammed the phone closed and back into his pocket. He ran back into the room where Ezekiel confirmed that it was more angels coming and he was sure they wouldn’t be as helpful. Dean told the angel that he had talked to Cas, who had vouched for him, but he wasn’t sure if Sam could be moved yet.

“If we stay here, we could all die,” Ezekiel stated matter-of-factly.

Dean reached into the green duffel bag he’d brought up from the Impala and pulled out a jar of red paint and an old paint brush. Ezekiel tilted his head and watched as the man began painting swirls and loops and geometric designs all over the walls. Dean pointed at the angel warding sigils and asked if they would prevent Ezekiel from doing what he needed to.

“I’ll manage,” the angel said tiredly and returned to scanning Sam with his hand. 

Dean rushed out into the hallway, carrying out a silver blade that looked just like the one that had been against his throat not that long ago. He saw people running through the halls and soon caught site of a small group, all dressed very differently, a farmer, a businesswoman, a construction worker, walking nearly in step but all with determination directly towards Dean. All of them held a blade like his. Dean gripped his own blade tightly and braced his feet as he faced them down.

“Where is Castiel?” the woman barked as she approached. “Give us the traitor of Heaven or we’ll kill your brother, then you.” She glanced at the door behind Dean, knowing there was no way the three of them could enter the room while the sigils were active and this angered her further.

“Bite me,” Dean said as he brought his own blade up into a guarding stance. 

As the group got closer, they all stopped abruptly several feet away, staring over his shoulder in astonishment. Dean heard a rumbling noise behind him and suddenly a large man in armor and a red cape stepped up beside him. The man’s blond hair was far longer than Sam’s and he was more muscled than Dean himself. In one hand, the man carried a large medieval looking hammer with a leather strap and archaic designs all over the hammer itself. Dean recognized the man and the hammer. He would have taken a step away in shock but Thor spoke before he could.

“Stand down,” Thor rumbled menacingly at the trio. “I will not allow you to injure these valiant warriors.” Dean was confused but he’d take help where he could get it. 

“Stay out of this, pagan insect,” the woman growled at Thor.

The trio growled and charged Thor and Dean. They raised their blades and ran towards them, yelling angrily. Dean danced and pummeled and thrust at the attacking angels, keeping their blades as far away from his own body as he could. He still took a few hits, new bruises blooming on his face and others under his clothing. He even got a few shallow slices from the blades through his shirts, but nothing that drew more than a few drops of blood. Thor swung the hammer, connecting again and again, slamming the attackers back, sending them flying down the hallway. The god never let any of them get close enough to even touch him. Shortly, the trio were regrouping down at the far end, stumbling and injured, but trying to get back up, their rage evident. The walls were busted and crumbling, some of the lights dangling by a sparking wire. Dean was breathing heavily, waiting for the next attack, but Thor was as calm as he had been upon first walking into the fray. Thor did look at Dean to confirm that he was okay to continue before returning his dangerous gaze to the foe.

“Thor?” a voice called from behind them. They both turned and saw Dr. Banner running down the hallway. Dean saw the doctor’s eyes take in the destruction and attackers further down. Dr. Banner looked even more nervous than before, again appearing to go a mild shade a green before it faded, but he didn’t hesitate when he reached them. He ran into Sam’s room. With a last look at their struggling foes, they both trailed the doctor into the room.

As Dean stepped back through the doorway, he heard the dreaded sounds of all the monitors around his little brother going off. Warnings blared and beeped over his head. Ezekiel was standing on the other side of the hospital bed and opened his mouth as soon as he saw Dean, who froze as the door closed behind him, effectively blocking the attacking angels.

“This just happened,” the angel said. “He’s too weak and if I don’t do something quickly, he’ll die. I can’t heal him from the outside. You’ll have to hurry and help me possess his body.” The sigils behind him flared and sparked as the trio raged against the door, demanding entrance. 

Bruce was already at Sam’s side, checking him over. He looked no worse, but the monitoring equipment said otherwise. Dean held his breath and watched him lean over his brother. Thor was looking around at the glowing sigils and nodding as if impressed. The more time dragged, the narrower the doctor’s eyes became.

“Dean!” Ezekiel cried again, pulling Dean back to his request/demand. 

“What do you need me to do?” Dean said once he was able to finally drag in a ragged breath. Ezekiel appeared to relax, but before he could give instructions to Dean, Dr. Banner stood up and began speaking, never taking his eyes off the angel.

“Mr. Dougherty, wait. Your brother is stable,” he said. “The equipment has all been tampered with. All the alarms were set to go off manually.” Dean’s brow furrowed and he looked at the doctor hard before turning his gaze to the angel. Understanding bloomed like a red mist in Dean’s mind and he growled low in his throat.

“You son of a bitch!” He started towards Ezekiel, but Thor put a strong arm in front of him. “Who are you?”

“I am Ezekiel,” the angel said. “Castiel vouched for me.”

“No damn way you’re who Cas thinks you are,” Dean growled. “He said you were an angel of honor and there’s no damned honor in what I know you were trying. You’ll never possess my brother, you dick!”

“We do not have time for this,” Thor said to Dean as he held him back. Ezekiel looked around at them, eyes darting nervously. He was trapped and he knew it. Thor’s gesture to his ear earned a nod from the doctor, who reached down to finish unhooking all of the equipment from Sam except the saline drip, which he unhooked and lay on the bed next to him. He also pulled out the feeding tube and catheter that had been hidden beneath the sheet, a little faster than he would have liked, but time was of the essence. “Lady Natasha is landing on the roof. We must get you both away from here and to the Tower now, where safety is assured. We will fight our way through.”

“I know a way to buy us some time,” Dean said, pushing away from Thor’s arm.

Dean growled again at Ezekiel, then stalked over to a sigil painted at chest height near the room door. Bruce and Thor glanced back and forth between him and the angel. Dean raised his free hand and pulled the silver blade across his palm, drawing out a line of blood. Ezekiel’s eyes widened in understanding just as Dean nodded. 

“No!” Ezekiel shouted, holding up his hands.

“Open the door,” Dean ordered Thor, who moved to comply. As Thor turned the handle and pulled it open, the trio of attacking angels rushed into the room. The last one had just stepped over the threshold when Dean slammed his bloody palm onto the sigil. The room flared into a bright white light, causing Dean, Thor, and Bruce to cover their eyes.

Seconds later, they blinked away the residual blinding light and looked around the room. All of the angels, including Ezekiel, were gone. The doctor and Thor looked at Dean in open astonishment.

“What was that?” Bruce asked.

“Blood magic,” Dean growled out. “Angel sendaway sigil. Sent those dicks somewhere else to give us a little time. Won’t be gone long so we need to go now.” Thor’s eyebrow went up and he smiled, very clearly impressed. Dr. Banner took it in stride, calling Thor over to help him carry Sam. Dean, however, stepped in front of him. Thor and Bruce exchanged a glance.

“You’ll need to watch our backs while we get the roof, big guy,” he said. Thor nodded sharply. Dean stowed the blade into the green duffel, handing it off to Bruce. “I’ll carry him if you can carry this.” Bruce nodded more slowly. Dean sighed in gratitude before leaning over his brother, reaching under Sam’s shoulders with one arm and his knees with the other.

“Come on, Sasquatch,” he grunted as he lifted him off the bed. Sam was taller, broader but also leaner than Dean, less muscled, which meant he wasn’t as heavy. But it was more awkward with the extra length. Dr. Banner looked at him questioningly, resting a hand on Dean’s arm after laying the saline bag still attached to the IV on the patient’s stomach. Dean nodded. “He’s my brother. He ain’t that heavy.”

Dr Banner gave a faint smile before nodding to Thor, who touched his ear, speaking to an unseen person.

“We are on our way to the roof. Watch for hostiles,” Thor said as he stepped out into the hallway and looked around for more attackers. He gestured for Dean and Bruce to follow and moved confidently out ahead, Mjolnir at the ready. Dean shifted Sam until his head lolled against his shoulder before following the Norse God out of the room, Bruce close behind, his hand lightly on Dean’s back as he scanned the hall behind them.

They made their way up to the helipad on the roof, three floors up, without incident, only having to slow down on the stairwell once as Dean began to feel the toil of carrying the dead (pun definitely NOT intended) weight of his brother. If Sam hadn’t lost so much weight during the trials, it would have been felt sooner. Dean just grunted, shifted his grip, and continued up. Thor forced open the roof access door, the wind whipping his cape around him, and then held it for Dean and Bruce to pass. No sooner had the door shut behind them than the high-pitched ringing and trembling building had begun again. Dean’s steps stuttered as his mind froze, his fear of flying rearing up to the front upon seeing the jet waiting on the helipad, engines purring. Bruce glanced at him, pausing at the stutter the brief flash of something on Dean’s face, but the Dean had already set his face in grim determination before the terror could slow him any further. He shifted Sam higher, now moving faster towards the jet. Thor and Bruce hurried along behind him. 

Thor scanned the roof and all around while the humans climbed the jet’s ramp. As soon as Bruce and Dean had cleared the entrance, he jogged up the ramp and hit the panel to close it.

“We clear?” A woman’s voice called from the cockpit. Dean glanced around and only caught a glimpse of bright red curls and a pilot’s headset over the edge of the pilot chair before looking to Dr. Banner.

“Go, Tasha,” Bruce said loudly while he snapped open a latch, which dropped a long, metal table from the wall, too much like a morgue bed for Dean’s taste. Bruce locked the table into place to keep it from bouncing while in flight. Dean felt the jet shift as it lifted off and shuddered. “Put him here. I need to get the oxygen and monitoring patches set up.” Dean lowered the pale hunter onto the cold table, watching the doctor hang the saline bag.

The jet rose and moved on the vertical before Thor had turned away from the now closed ramp door. He walked past the two brothers and his friend, smiling in an odd but happy way at Dean and Sam. He moved over to the cockpit, where Natasha was at the yoke, already radioing back to the Tower about their status.

Dean refused to sit down, instead hovering next to the table, one hand touching Sam’s chest. His other hand was braced against the wall to hold himself steady. 

“He okay, doc?” Dean asked, his voice raspy with worry. Bruce glanced at him from the tablet, hummed a little, then nodded.

“Yes, oh, um,” Bruce began, “he’s still amazingly stable. I’m going to secure him with some straps just so any turbulence doesn’t shake him off the table before I attach oxygen and the monitoring patches. Catheter and feeding tube will have to wait. Then we can sit down and talk about how this happened and what those people wanted from you.” Dean nodded, helping Bruce with the straps, understanding why it had to be done. He was glad Sam wouldn’t be wake on this trip because being strapped down was something Sam was very not okay with.

Once the straps were all secured, he held Sam’s head so Bruce could place the cannula that was attached to a small, portable oxygen tank correctly. Bruce attached a portable monitoring system to Sam by small metallic patches that adhered to his chest and head before tapping the tablet in his hand to link them to it. He finally seemed satisfied, which helped Dean relax quite a bit.

The doctor gestured for Dean to sit in one of the seats along the wall, Dean leaving the one closest to Sam open for the doctor. He leaned back and scrubbed his stubbled face one more time, breathing deeply, trying to ignore the fact that they were in a jet.

“First, doc,” Dean said, finally looking at Bruce with interest. “You’re that guy that turns into the Hulk, right?” Bruce cringed a little and smiled self-deprecatingly, more to himself than anything, before nodding. Dean nodded thoughtfully. “That’s obviously Thor and I’m guessing here, but that redheaded pilot is probably Black Widow.” Bruce acknowledged his statement/question with another nod. Dean sighed.

“Un-freaking-believable,” Dean muttered, rolling his eyes, his mind working to begin analyzing the day’s situation. “The Avengers. Like Bobby used to say, we never do things by half.”

_‘Winchester luck strikes again_,’ he thought to himself. 

Dean worked on controlling himself, bending forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, bowing his head. This was bad but this was Sam’s last hope. The Avengers would figure out who they were and arrest them. Being the ultimate good guys, they would really do what they said and try to save Sam, but Dean knew he would probably end up in prison or a deep, dark dungeon before this was all over. Maybe he could make a deal for Sam or claim that he had forced him to do what was on his criminal record. It was a last-ditch effort as Heaven was closed, the angels were topside and on the hunt for Castiel, who also happened to now be human, Crowley was almost human and locked in his trunk, Bobby was dead, God was missing, and Sam was dying. He’d have to pick a direction and just go with it.

“I guess there’s no way out now but through,” he huffed, turning his bowed head to Bruce.

“We’ll be at the Tower in 20, Bruce,” Natasha said loudly. Thor kept looking back between Dean and Sam after he sat himself in the empty co-pilot seat.

Bruce glanced up at Thor and Natasha. He could tell from the tone of voice that Natasha was on alert. He shifted slightly, reminding himself that the patient on the table came first. Natasha was talking quietly to Thor beside her, his face turning more thoughtful and confused. He glanced back at them a few times but didn’t speak or come back.

“Mr. Dougherty,” Bruce said, clearing his throat, “I need to know what happened. How did your brother end up like this?” He waited patiently for the man to settle into his story.

“Look,” Dean sighed, sitting up, letting his head fall back against the wall behind where he sat, “I know what I’m about to tell you is gonna be weird as hell, but I think you’re gonna need the honest truth to be able to help Sammy.” Bruce listened thoughtfully. “So, a little backstory. Me and Sam, we’re hunters. We hunt the supernatural, things most of humanity don’t know exists. You guys,” Dean gestured to Bruce and then up where Thor and Natasha sat. “you guys take on the global shit. Aliens, terrorists, stuff that needs superheroes and firepower and politics. Me and Sam, we take on the stuff that requires deception, knowledge, and magic.”

Bruce remained silent, thinking Dean must be delusional or just mentally unstable, but he kept his face neutral, which was not an easy task.

“See,” Dean said, “we’ve been battling literal demons all our lives and we found a way to shut the gates of Hell forever.” Dean scoffed and rubbed his eyes. “It was this old, dark times spell. It required three Heavenly Trials, like Herculean Trials, to complete the spell. I was gonna do ‘em but Sam’s luck of being in the wrong place at the wrong time turned it around on us when he had to save me during the first one and it forced him into taking them on instead.”

Bruce was having a hard time figuring out what this had to do with radiation poisoning, but he let Dean talk.

“The first trial was to…hell, I guess you don’t need to know what they were, just what they did to him. At the end of each trial, Sam had to say a spell. After the first one, his arm glowed and it looked like it was really painful. It was over pretty quick. He tried to tell me it wasn’t that bad, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew it was doing something to him, but I trusted him to tell me if it was too much.” He closed his eyes and let his head drop forward, listening to Sam’s steady breathing and heartbeat for a moment on the monitor.

“After the second one, this one harder than the last, same deal, glowing, pain, and the lies. ‘I’m fine, Dean.’ He tried to hide it, he did, but this time was way worse. He couldn’t walk straight. He couldn’t stand up without stumbling or losing his balance. Barely eating. He was coughing up blood. He was sleeping for days but waking up exhausted. Reflexes were shot. I asked an angel friend to heal Sam but he told me this magic was so old that it had damaged Sam in ways that he couldn’t heal him and didn’t think anyone could, except God, and he’s not answering his voicemail. I did worry about Sam not surviving the last trial, but death is never a certainty in our line of work.

“I almost stopped it then, but Sam insisted, reminding me that we’d seal Hell and remove all the demons from the Earth. I trusted him and we continued. The last trial was to cure a demon. For the cure, Sam needed purified blood. He went to confession and literally spent hours talking to whoever was listening.” 

Dean paused and said, half to himself, “I think it always had to be him to these trials. I mean, I don’t think it would have worked for me because there are some things I’ve done that I don’t regret, but Sammy? Everything he’s done that ended wrong, he blames himself for, even shit he didn’t even do. Emperor of self-loathing. He hides it though, no self-pity parties for him where anyone can see it. He’s infinitely stronger than I am there.” He shook himself and returned to the narrative.

“He then had to use his own blood and inject the demon 8 times, once per hour, finishing with a spell.”

Bruce gasped quietly. That meant that Sam, who was already failing in health at the time, had nearly killed himself using his own blood supply to do this trial. Dean gulped and sat up straight, now staring at Sam while he finished.

“I left him there with Crowley, the demon, in that church while I went after Cas, our angel friend, who was helping do this ritual that was supposed to save humanity. Naomi, another freaking angel, tried to tell me and Cas that Metatron, who was doing the ritual, was lying and that Sam was going to die if he completed the trial. Cas ran off to confront Metatron and I had to stop Sam from completing the final spell. I got there seconds before he said that last spell. He was weaving, falling apart, looking like he hadn’t slept for weeks. Both his freaking arms were glowing all the way to his shoulders and you could tell he was only vertical through sheer will. 

“And I knew. Right then I knew I couldn’t lose him, even if it meant putting up with demons for the rest of our lives. He’s all I have left.” His voice hitched. Bruce laid a hand on his shoulder and let the man catch his breath. He could feel the jet turning and knew they were getting close, but he could feel the story was nearing the end. “I stopped Sam. I asked him to let it go and to not finish it because it would kill him. You know what he said? He told me he was okay with it.” A tear fell down Dean’s cheek and he brushed it away, eyes still on Sam.

“I told him I wasn’t. And then there it was. He told me what he had confessed. He told me his biggest regret was that he wasn’t better. A better man, a better hunter, a better brother. Because he knew all his bad decisions had been because he wasn’t good enough.” Dean pulled a shaky breath in. “And I literally begged him at that point. I told him how much I loved him and trusted him and I was sorry I didn’t treat him better and that I’d be lost without him here. I told him I’d die if he did. It was selfish of me, but it worked. He was flaming out but I wasn’t going to let him fall. I promised to fix it. He put all his trust in me and tried to let it all go. The glowing finally faded but the pain didn’t, I guess. I was trying to get him to the hospital when we saw it.

“That global meteor shower? Naomi was right. That ritual that Cas had been helping Metatron do had been a lie. It was actually a powerful spell to cast all the angels out. All the angels fell from Heaven. Metatron stole Cas’ grace for the spell and now Cas is human too. He’s lost out there somewhere.”

“And Sam…is dying,” Dean said, his breath stuttering. “I…I can’t lose him. He’s everything.”

Thor came towards them from the cockpit.

“We are arriving.” Thor glanced curiously at Dean before going to his place by the ramp panel.

Dean nodded, furiously wiping his face, schooling his features. He did nod at Bruce in gratitude, breathing a little easier. Dean felt the jet begin to decelerate and turn before descending. 

Once the jet had settled, Bruce jumped up, unhooking the saline bag and laying it on Sam’s stomach again. He unstrapped Sam from the table and turned towards the opening hatch, his hand still on the man’s chest. Dean stayed back, ready to lend a hand, but out of Bruce’s way, trusting this unassuming man with his brother’s life. As soon as the ramp was down, Dean spotted Tony-Freaking-Stark waiting at the end of it with a gurney. Dean smiled internally that Sam was being saved by superheroes.

Thor was quickly down the ramp, stopping at the roof access elevator door.

The metal wheels of the gurney barely made a sound, as Tony ran up the ramp with it. Bruce grabbed the leading end and lined it up with the table. Dean leaned to help them slide his giant brother over onto the gurney carefully. Tony glanced at Dean curiously only once, most of his attention on Bruce and the patient. They pulled up the sides of the gurney to keep him from rolling off, then moved off, pushing him down the ramp and over to where the thunder god waited at the elevator doors. Dean jogged to keep up, bending to grab up the duffel from next to the ramp where Bruce had dropped it when they boarded. Natasha, hand on the grip of her hip holster, followed sedately after, eyes never leaving the flannel wearing man. 

The elevator door opened smoothly, and Tony stepped in, speaking to Bruce in tones too low for Dean to catch. Tony and Bruce were glancing between the tablet in Bruce’s hand and the pale, still man between them. Thor stepped in after them, his bulk taking up a large part of the elevator. Tony put up a hand to stop Dean and gave him an odd look. 

“Not enough room. Come down with Natasha,” He said, his voice pitched low. He glanced over Dean’s shoulder at Natasha with a short nod, then pushed the button to close the elevator doors.

Dean looked over as Natasha arrived next to him. Her hands were by her side as she reached to press her thumb to the biometric keypad. Dean was finally able to have a full look at the svelte redhead standing next to him. She was wearing tight jeans, a dark maroon top, and a black fitted jacket, with knee high boots, an occupied gun holster on her right thigh and if Dean didn’t know better, she had a knife at her ankle, and possibly something tucked into her lower back. Any other time, he would have smiled lasciviously and hit on her, but this was neither the time, nor the place. Also, her reputation made him nervous. Her bright green eyes bored into his. He turned back to the elevator. 

The doors opened and he stepped in, duffel slung over his shoulder. Natasha stepped in beside him, never letting him out of her sight.

“Welcome to Avenger Tower,” a British voice said from all around them. Dean’s eyebrow went up as he looked around.

“Uh, thanks?” he said.

“Jarvis,” Natasha explained as she pressed a button and the elevator began to descend. “Tony’s AI. Jarvis runs the Tower and is inside the Jet as well.” Dean glanced at her again and grunted with a nod. The redhead silently evaluated him from the corners of her eyes.

“Dean,” he said, “I’m Dean.” She looked him up and down, her reaction unreadable, then turned back to the doors.

“Agent Romanoff,” she said. He opened his mouth to say something else, but the doors opened. 

And there stood Captain America himself! He was casually dressed in jeans and a t-shirt but completely recognizable, especially knowing where they were and seeing the shield. Dean couldn’t help but smile, almost fangirling. He stepped out ahead of Natasha to introduce himself and stopped after two steps, noticing that the captain was staring at him frostily, arms battle ready at his sides, the shield attached to one forearm. Dean frowned and turned to say something to his escort, when he saw a honey-brunette man in black jeans and a sleeveless black t-shirt, also wearing a gun holster, his on his left thigh. He also had a sleek black quiver of arrows on his back with something else attached that Dean couldn’t identify. But if these were the Avengers, this had to be Hawkeye and the quiver also meant a bow. He had dropped silently down into the elevator from the emergency hatch, landing him effortlessly next to Black Widow, who was now holding her gun in her hand, pointing it at him. Dean slammed his jaw shut as he turned to the captain in disbelief.

“Dean Winchester,” Steve said with authority. “You are under arrest for mass murder, armed robbery, kidnapping, assault, and credit card fraud, among many other charges.” Dean knew his fears were being realized and did the only thing he could do in this situation. He dropped the duffel and raised his hands. 

With Natasha aiming her weapon at him, and Captain America standing before him, Hawkeye stepped up behind him to begin the pat down for weapons. The search was sure and swift, not missing anything, pulling each item out from various pockets and sheaths, dropping them somewhere out of Dean’s reach, but within the Avengers’ eyesight. The hunter wasn’t surprised that they found and confiscated all of his weapons, as well as his wallet, lockpicks, keys, and phone. Dean was cursing himself mentally but reminded himself again, anything for Sam. Even prison. He was smart enough not to make any sarcastic comments or rile them in any way, but he did have to ask.

“How did you know?” He asked.

“Jarvis ran facial recognition on the jet,” Steve said, “He alerted Natasha on her headset and the rest of us here in the tower.” Dean sighed.

“And Sam?” He croaked, while the archer pulled the duffel further away. There was the clink of handcuffs and one by one, each of Dean’s hands were pulled down and behind him, the archer’s martial arts thumb lock hold preventing action even if he’d tried to escape, to be cuffed securely. “What’s happening with my brother?”

Captain America grunted softly, pleased that there was no resistance in the arrest, that this apparently psychotic serial killer was subdued and seemed only concerned about his brother. Dangerously co-dependent, all the reports said. Clint had advised him that the way to make sure Dean, the most dangerous and dominant personality of the two, was under control, was to separate them. If one was controlled, the other would be controlled. The key would be to not threaten or injure either of them. Then, the reports said, either brother would be unstoppable in protection or retribution for the other.

“Your brother is in the infirmary with Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark,” Steve said, sliding the shield over his back with a strap, then folding his arms over his chest as Clint put one solid hand on Dean’s shoulder, the other loosely holding one of his forearms. “They are working to do what they can to save his life.” He watched Dean take a deep breath and let it out, tension easing as it released.

“And me?” Dean continued, “Is the FBI on their way already?” Clint scoffed behind him. Dean never took his eyes off the captain, waiting. 

“No, Mr. Winchester. Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark have made it clear that you will be needed here until all options have been exhausted in your brother’s case. They both believe that there is more that might be needed from you that could be key in his care and treatment.” Dean swallowed, briefly closing his eyes at the thought that he wouldn’t be forcefully separated from his dying brother just yet. “SHIELD will be made aware of both of your presences, to be on alert for any trouble you might cause while here and to be ready to take custody once it’s decided which authority has jurisdiction. However, in the interim, you’ll be detained in the containment room in the infirmary, with one of us on guard at all times until either your brother’s treatment is successful, or it’s not, at which point, one or both of you will then be remanded to the proper authorities to be tried and sentenced.”

Steve then bobbed his chin at Hawkeye, who turned Dean using the hand on his shoulder, while the other hand maintained contact with the cuffed forearm. The silent man gave a small push and propelled Dean down the hallway.

Dean caught a glimpse of Natasha holstering her gun and gathering up the confiscated weapons. 

“Be careful with that,” he admonished when she rubbed her thumb over the demon blade. She raised an eyebrow at him and shook her head, but she did drop the blade back into the bag and gathered everything up as she followed the procession. 

Dean grunted as Hawkeye directed him past a window, through which he glimpsed Sam in one of the beds, being tended urgently by Tony Stark and Dr. Banner. They entered the infirmary, garnering only the briefest of glances from Tony and a dark stare from Thor before they continued to through the room to a double door at the back. Beside the door was a keypad. The entire wall was glass and looked back into the infirmary. The inner room had a cot with a blanket in the far corner and a glass enclosed cubicle that held a toilet. There was a sink on one of the other walls, with recesses inset in the wall above the sink and another over the head of the bed acting as shelves. All in all, the room was pretty large with higher than normal ceilings. 

Dean was walked into the room by the archer/assassin, left standing, handcuffed, as the Avengers stepped out, pulling the door closed behind them. Dean wasn’t stupid enough to think this was standard room. He had felt the pressure in his head and ears upon hearing the hiss and knew this was special, unbreakable glass, sealed with air pressure. And the Avengers would be guarding him 24/7. There would be no escaping. He and Sam were royally screwed. He couldn’t hear anything outside his cell but being able to see them working on his brother was enough for now.


	2. ScienceBros Help Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Tony rush to create the formula that can save Sam, who is vacillating between life and death.

In the main part of the infirmary, Sam was being settled in more comfortably, not that he’d be aware of it. Bruce and Tony were finishing setting up the monitors and other medical equipment. Tony let Bruce finish inserting a catheter and a feeding tube for nutrients as the young patient already appeared very thin. Natasha and Clint passed back through the room, heading to security to work on making sure the perimeter was secure and that they hadn’t been following by the attackers. Steve stood just outside the containment room, watching the prisoner as he sighed, then settled on the edge of the cot, to keep watch on the activity around his brother.

Thor was pacing back and forth on the far side of the room, muttering to himself, glancing over at the coma patient again and again with confusion on his brow.

“Stop pacing,” Tony said without looking up from where he was pulling up the test results on the computer. “He’s in a coma and his psychotic brother is locked away. You did good, Point Break.” Tony smiled at Thor before turning to Bruce, asking where they were in moving forward.

Bruce was pulling up his variation of the radiation treatment cocktail on the computer, trying to decide how to tailor it for this situation.

“This cannot be the way of things,” Thor said finally, stopping to stare at the scientists. Both looked over at him.

“Sure it can,” Tony smiled. “Bad guys do bad things. Bad things happen to bad guys. Karma, universal balance.” But Thor frowned deeper and stepped closer to the bed to look down at Sam.

“But these men are not bad guys.” The scientists exchanged a look, Bruce’s more pitying than Tony’s. “I returned when I did because Heimdall, Keeper of the Bifrost, whose eyes see all, who only speaks the truth in all his centuries, has spoken to me urgently of the need to rescue these valiant human warriors or your world would indeed be lost.”

“Thor,” Bruce said gently, “Heimdall has to be mistaken. Perhaps he just saw the wrong men, or the wrong event.” But Thor shook his head vehemently. “Dean, the one in Hulk’s room, told me this unbelievable story on the way here about how Sam had been exposed to the radiation. Demons and angels, Trials to close Hell. Spells that cast the angels down to earth. Just nonsense.”

“No, Heimdall does not make these mistakes. His eyes are true seeing, far, far exceeding any other’s sight excepting the All-Father. There is something amiss here. Dr. Banner, Bruce, surely you saw the magic used by the older one to remove those who attacked them…” Thor clenched his jaw and stared hard at the patient, as if trying to decipher the mysteries of the man just by sight. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Bruce continued, while scrolling through bloodwork and other medical reports on the Stark pad in his hands, glancing up at Thor in concern. “But these men do have extensive criminal histories. Sure, there are reports about how they helped save this person or that one, how they were the nicest people this victim had ever met, etc, but serial killers are actually known for being able to switch from ‘guy next door’ to murderer from one person to the next. There are even videos of these two online robbing banks, murdering dozens of innocent strangers. How can all of that evidence not be real? Yes, I saw the blood and the blinding light before those crazy people disappeared, and I’m still clueless on what that even was, but it doesn’t excuse the crimes these two have perpetrated. Heimdall may not be wrong, but maybe his perspective is skewed.”

“I must return to Asgard at once and find more information about these men,” Thor said thoughtfully.

Bruce was nodding at him. He watched Thor head out the door.

“Tony, you still have that radiation detector that you modified after Loki’s attack?” Bruce asked with furrows in his brow. Tony started to say no, then stopped, looking up. 

“Jarvis, did we get my souped up RIID back from SHIELD?”

“Yes, sir. It is currently in storage locker 17B-1 in the laboratory on floor 53.” Jarvis replied. “Shall I have it sent up?”

“Yes. To the infirmary. And make it snappy.” Tony waved a hand at the ceiling.

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis replied without inflection. 

“So ‘blood and blinding light’?” Tony asked Bruce while they waited, Steve turning to listen, still keeping a wary eye on the sealed room. Bruce glanced at him and huffed softly. 

“Yeah, it was really odd.” Bruce gave a quick outline of what he witnessed. A short time later, Dummy glided into the infirmary carrying a box by its black handle. Tony grabbed the case from the robot before shooing him back out the door.

He laid the case on a side table and pulled out the radiation isotope identification device, looking over the housing to make sure it was still intact.

“Right. I modified this bad boy to be able to read even the most minute particle traces and tell me exactly what it is and in what quantities,” Tony gloated. He flicked a switch and it hummed lightly, the readout panel lighting up. He turned and headed towards the bed. “Let’s see what we can see, eh, Brucie?”

Bruce backed away to give him room but looked around the edge of his arm to watch as he scanned over their patient. It took a few minutes but finally Tony hummed and showed the panel readout to the doctor. Steve saw Dean watching intently, his brow furrowed at the machinery and movement, but quiet and still.

“I really am a genius,” Tony smiled. Bruce shook his head, pulling his glasses back onto his face. Tony flipped off the RIID and sat it gently back into the case. “With these readings and fresh blood samples, we should know what we’re really looking for now, right?”

“If we can modify the formula I’ve created to target this broader type radiation your RIID has picked up, that should flush out what’s left and decontaminate him. Not sure what to make of some of these readings but they’re caused by the radiation, the decontamination should settle those back to normal.” Bruce ran to the computer to begin breaking down his formula, where Tony joined him over this shoulder. “Go ahead and get the blood samples to see what we have to work with.” Tony turned to pull the fresh blood samples, eyeing the comatose man. He did glance nervously past Steve at the brother staring at them with an intensity that unnerved him, but knowing he was locked in that room and Steve was on guard, he turned back to conferring with Bruce.

It only took a few minutes for them to come to a decision on which direction the formula needed to take and which fellow biologists/biochemists they might need to confer with. Tony clapped Bruce on the back and headed out to get started in Bruce’s lab a few floors up where the necessary equipment was housed. Bruce sent the modified data to the lab so it’d be there when he arrived. A few minutes later, a video feed in the lab opened on one of the monitors next to Bruce.

“Hey Bruce,” came Tony’s voice as he slid into view on a rolling stool. He turned to see what Tony was doing or needed. “This is based on the super serum formula you used on yourself, right? So, have you ever tried this stuff on a living being before? I mean, I know you said you tried the original variation on yourself to remove the gamma changes and it didn’t do anything against the Green Guy, but why are you so sure it’ll work on little big man there?” By now, Tony had the screen turned to show a chemical compound as a 3D model hologram, peering at it intently.

Bruce glanced over to see Steve staring at the model on the screen as well. Clint had just returned and after checking the prisoner visually, stood next to Cap quietly.

“Tony, I’ve done minor blood trials. A big part of radiation poisoning treatment is just decontaminating the blood of the traces of the radiation particles themselves, then some treatments that help the body start to reverse the damage that was done. For different types of radiation, there are different types of decontaminates, as well as treatment medications. When I walked in there for the consult, I could feel the gamma radiation. It’s nearly undetectable by most equipment, but the Other Guy could feel it. And it holds with our theory. Gamma radiation is a part of solar energy, but not usually in a concentration enough to do this. With the modifications we discussed, it should, in theory, work.”

Clint had moved to stand at the foot of the bed, looking down at the patient.

“It’s not going to change this guy into another Hulk is it?” Clint asked with an eyebrow raised. Steve gave a startled look from his post.

“No, what we’re working off of is my variation for radiation poisoning treatment, not creating a new super soldier. It’s an all-in-one, a decontaminate, a treatment medication, and a granulocyte colony-stimulating factor, which helps repair bone marrow. This man has had so much damage done to his body by the radiation exposure, that if this doesn’t stop it and start the reversal process, nothing will.”

“Doc,” Clint said, looking up from the bed to Bruce and Tony, “If this man’s criminal record is accurate, he and his brother are heading to prison for eternity or the electric chair. Wouldn’t it be more merciful to just let him die than to save him only to face either of those?”

Steve started to say something, but then closed his mouth, looking at Bruce for his reply.

Bruce rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip, twisting at the waist on the stool, settling his answer in his mind.

“Honestly, Clint, I can’t with good conscience sit back and watch a man die when I might have a solution that can save him. I know SHIELD has assassinated people like him, but I don’t do that.”

“And having a live guinea pig for an untested formula is a huge plus too,” Tony chimed in. Bruce cringed guiltily, eyes flickering from Tony to Steve, who just shook his head slightly. “We already have coma guy’s blood. I say we get some from the brother for comparison testing.”

“I agree,” Bruce chided himself for not thinking of it earlier, “We do need to test his brother too. I’ll need to go in for a blood draw.” Clint shrugged and exchanged a look with Steve.

“It’ll be safer with Clint and I in there with you,” Steve decided. “He’s still cuffed.”

“As long as we assure him that we’re working to save his brother, he should remain compliant,” Clint said. “He didn’t put up a fight at all when we arrested him.”

“He’ll need to be uncuffed to draw the blood though.” Bruce turned to gather up his phlebotomy kit.

“I’ll keep running some simulations with Jarvis. Once you have the samples, come on up,” Tony said before turning away from the screen, leaving the video feed open.

Steve turned to scan the room and the prisoner as Clint and Bruce stepped up to the double door. Dean had seen them coming and tensed up, but remained seated, watching them. 

“Clint and I go in first to make sure he’s controlled. We’ll let you know when it’s safe to come in.” Steve looked at Clint, who in turn, gave a short nod.

Steve pressed the mic key on the pad.

“Mr. Winchester,” Steve said, watching his response. “Stand up. Turn around and face away from the door. Do not make any aggressive moves or action will be taken.” He watched him clench his jaw then nod, before shifting off the cot to follow the instructions. Once he was in place, Steve entered the passcode, unsealing the door. 

Clint pulled the door open and crossed over to behind Dean. He placed a hand on the cuffed hands, the other on his shoulder, just like before, and waited for Steve to follow him in. Cap stepped to his left, far enough to be out of reach, but close enough to react, just within Dean’s peripheral vision. They both evaluated his demeanor, reading the tension in his muscles but nothing indicating an attack. They shared a silent conversation before Clint returned his eyes to the back of Dean’s neck. Steve nodded to Bruce that it was safe for him to come in.

He stepped into the room, pulling on nitrile gloves as he went, stopping in front of Dean to show him the kit.

“Mr. Winchester,” Bruce started, but Dean spoke before he could continue.

“Dean,” he said, “Mr. Winchester was my father and I ain’t him. Just call me Dean.” Clint and Steve shared another look and Bruce simply nodded.

“My apologies. Dean, we’re running new tests on Sam before we finalize the formula that we hope will work. We’d like to take a sample of your blood to test for contaminates, as well as run next to his to help us establish a possible baseline, since you’re brothers.” Dean was already nodding.

“You take what you want,” he said quickly. “You want my blood? Take it all, drain me. Just save him.”

“We only need a few test tubes, I assure you,” Bruce said, setting down the kit on the desk. He looked at his teammates, waiting patiently for them to comply to his earlier request and remove the cuffs as it was obvious that taking blood while his hands were cuffed behind him was problematic. Clint looked to Cap for confirmation. Dean must have understood their hesitation.

“Look,” he said, looking over at Cap, focusing on the obvious leader they all followed. “First off, I’d do anything for my brother. You need blood? Take it. I won’t fight you. Second, I do know who you guys are. You’re the freaking Avengers. Not only can’t I not take you on, I won’t. You’re the ultimate good guys and believe me, you ain’t got nothing to worry about from me and Sam. Thirdly, and most importantly, you’re helping him. For that alone, you’re untouchable. You want to lock me up and throw away the keys? Drop me in the ocean? You save my brother? I’m down.”

“You realize two of your three reasons are Sam?” Clint asked curiously. Dean only shrugged.

“He’s my brother, the only family I got left,” Dean said, his voice breaking a little at the end. Clint pulled out the cuff key, releasing both cuffs. Dean pulled his wrists in front of his waist slowly, making no fast movements, rubbing them a little before looking at Bruce. “How do you want me, doc?”

****

Once back in the main part of the infirmary, Bruce made some notes about the superficial injuries he’d found on Dean, standard bar room brawl type of abrasions. Dean had been the perfect patient, taking all orders seriously, even accepting being handcuffed again without argument. 

“Bruce,” Steve said, stopping Bruce before he headed to the lab with the fresh tubes of blood, “Please let us know if you or Tony need anything. I believe once you and Tony have something started on his brother, we need sit down to a long discussion with Mr. Winchester.”

“Will do,” Bruce said, “I’ve got the monitors feeding down to the lab so we’ll be alerted to any change in his status. And Jarvis knows to alert us if we don’t respond fast enough.”

“Shouldn’t the patient be restrained?” Steve’s voice stopped him again, looking down at the comatose man. Tony scoffed loudly from the video feed but continued to work on the formula simulations.

“Cap, he’s so close to dead, the only thing separating him from actual death is a heartbeat. I don’t see that he’ll be up any time soon trying to beat any of us into submission.” Tony said all of this while rolling his eyes.

Clint snorted and glanced at Steve before schooling his face into solemnity. Steve definitely noticed and frowned at them.

“Be that as it may...” Steve looked at Clint, who looked at Bruce. Bruce finally threw up his hands.

“Fine!” Bruce huffed. “But soft ones to not interfere with the IV in his elbow or any that would injure him if he does wake up unexpectedly, although that could be days from now.” He gestured to a cabinet on the back wall, where Clint found a set of soft wrist restraints, such as used in mental hospitals. He and Steve secured the patient’s wrists, testing their strength and security before stepping back.

“Well, I have to get to the lab to help Tony work on the formula. If everything goes well, we should be able to get it synthesized within an hour or so and start treatment. I know one of you will stand guard on the other one, but the Hulk and I are not afraid of a comatose man.” With that, Bruce waved his hand dismissively and headed out the door towards the lab, Tony leaving the screen to go greet Bruce at the elevator to maximum discussion time.

Clint and Steve looked down at the man on the bed again, Clint pinching the inside of the man’s arm. There was no response at all. 

“Honestly, Cap,” Clint said, “This guy ain’t going anywhere and it’s going to be a long night. I suggest you meet up with Nat to get some dinner ready.” Steve nodded thoughtfully before heading out, having Jarvis pass the message to Tasha. The archer pulled a chair up next to the hospital bed and propped his feet on the railing. From his position, he could see the door and window from the outer hallway, the patient and all his monitor feeds, as well as the containment room, where the brother once again sat on the bed, this time, his tense shoulders leaning back against the wall, eyes closed in exhaustion.

*****

Little did the Avengers know that while his brother rested in his holding cell, Clint watching him warily, while Tony and Bruce worked in the lab, discussing lab results, running simulations and refining Bruce’s formula, while Thor stood next to Heimdall and listened intently to his friend, while Nat and Steve stood in the communal kitchen pulling out ingredients for their meal, while his own body lay still and pale in the infirmary of the Avengers Tower, Sam’s soul was wandering.

He was traveling roads and forests, Dean on one side of him, demanding he wake up and stay with him. Bobby was on the other side, telling Dean to shut up and let Sam decide for himself. Bobby wasn’t actively trying to make Sam let himself die, but he was talking to Sam about how he had done enough for the world and that if he wanted to let go, it would be okay. That the world would survive without him. But if Sam decided to stay, he’d help him with that too. Dean kept popping up, yelling at Bobby to screw off, that Sam belonged with him.

Sam was tired. Very tired. Dean had already talked him out of completing the Trials, which definitely would have killed him, but he had made peace with the thought of death from the Trials, which would have locked Hell and removed all demons from the Earth. That would have been worth it. But now, he was caught here, trying to decide to stay or to go. He loved Dean but he knew Dean would survive without him. It was Sam who couldn’t be on his own, because he didn’t make good decisions and had really bad self-preservation instincts. Sam was the one Dean always had to rescue. Sam was the one Dean sold his soul for. Sam was the one who let Lucifer out of the cage. Granted, he got him back into it, but Sam knew another huge mistake had been responsible for that to begin with. There were too many mistakes. And they were countable because Sam would not forget a single one. Every mistake he made was etched in his psyche, a wall of regrets weighing him down.

Dean continued to argue with Sam until finally, Sam growled and then he was somewhere else in his mind, Dean and Bobby far enough away that Sam could think. With him and Bobby shunted away, it was awfully silent and amazingly lonely, but he could think.

****

“Did you adjust for the reactivity to brimstone?” Tony asked off-handedly. He was looking through the blood workups and he was honestly flummoxed. He himself had once had palladium poisoning and had nearly died, but these results were beyond comprehension.

“Brimstone?” Bruce squinted at the screen. His eyes found the word sulfur. He started to dismiss Tony as everyone has a low level of sulfur or some variation of it in their bloodstream, then he saw the levels of sulfur found in the sample. “Did you run it twice? Run a baseline?” Tony nodded.

“Umhm, I did. Same result. And there are other elements that are too low level to be identified properly or just plain do not belong in a human’s bloodstream, even if they aren’t in dangerous levels,” Tony said, crossing his arms across his chest. “The brother’s blood work was almost standard. His cholesterol was a little high but nothing out of the ordinary. Sam’s though….”

Bruce hummed to himself and scrolled through Sam’s blood work again. From his knowledge of his formula and the findings, it was unknown if there would be any adverse reactions but the feeds from the infirmary were showing a decline in his vitals and there wasn’t enough time to do full analyses and tests on all the elements, especially since some just weren’t identifiable yet. If something didn’t happen soon, Sam probably wouldn’t survive the next 24 hours.

“Sulfur,” Tony mumbled. “Think this may be that demon connection? And if so, how would his blood have been purified if he had demon in his blood?”

“Not a clue, but he seemed certain in what he said. He specifically said ‘purified blood’.”

“Yeah, because psychopaths are nothing if not specific. Are we going to try to compensate for the sulfur or do you think it won’t react? I don’t see any problem myself.”

“I agree,” Bruce said as he pushed his glasses up high on his forehead and rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose in frustration. “And we’re running out of time. If we don’t move forward now, there won’t even be that slim chance in Hell. It’ll be too late.” Tony saw the strain in Bruce’s gesture and sat forward.

“If we’re going to do it, it’s better to get it over with.” Tony clapped him on his back and turned back to the equipment, pressing a button to begin the final synthesizing process. 

A little while later, as the apparatus dripped the condensate into the beaker, Bruce used a large pipette to carefully measure out the dark blue semi-liquid into dosage vials. He glanced over occasionally at the monitor that held the readouts from the infirmary, eyes flickering over to the live feed of the statue-like patient, with Clint on sentry duty beside him.

“So,” Tony said, holding up one of the vials and peering at it intently, “How much do you think of this will we need?” Bruce looked up thoughtfully.

“Well, he’s built like Steve, tall and broad, so I believe our original calculations for normal human DNA should be sufficient. But I am including an extra vial just in case. And if it’s not successful, then it’s more than enough.” Tony sighed deeply at that morose revelation as he leaned back and looked up at the ceiling.

“I gotta say. There’s something about these two that is really bugging me.” Bruce gave him a funny look.

“Only one thing, Tony?” Tony scowled at him.

“I mean, seriously. I know you do your volunteering at hospitals all over the place during downtime,” Tony mused, “but how much of a coincidence is it that you happened to be at that hospital today, the same day one of them was brought in with an illness that you specialize in, by the way.” Bruce thought deeper about that a moment as he filled the last vial. “And that Thor just happened to arrive in time to save them from an attack from crazy people.”

“You know in our line of work, things happen. It’s like a superhero trait, to be where you’re needed.” Bruce gestured up the readouts. “Honestly, the way his vitals are dipping, we may be cutting this action movie close.”

Tony scrunched up his face at the readouts. He hummed in irritation before rubbing his eyes and going back to helping Bruce grab the vials so they could head back up and begin the treatment. He wasn’t as confident that this would do anything for the young man, who unbeknownst to anyone else was already sitting in a cabin in his mind, talking directly to Death himself, ready to step into the abyss.

*****

Jarvis had alerted Steve and Natasha, per Tony’s instructions, that they were going to administer the first dose now. Natasha looked up from where she was finishing cutting up tomatoes for the salad and looked at Steve, who was just turning off the oven after pulling out the large casserole dish to sit on the stove. They remained in the kitchen, finishing the meal prep, waiting for the next alert, be it success or failure. 

Clint remained by the bedside but stood up, watching the prisoner, who was now pacing, having seen the uptick and tension in the activity surrounding his brother. Clint knew that if this didn’t work, he’d become a caged animal in a rage, much more dangerous than up to now. For his sake though, he hoped it did.

Bruce grabbed a syringe and pulled a measured dosage of the compound, quickly moving to the non-IV arm and inserting it directly into a vein. While they had seen many people die in many different ways, they had witnessed the emotions barely held in check by Dean for his younger brother. They knew that if Sam did die, Dean would be inconsolable, homicidal, or even suicidal.

“How long?” Steve asked via the two-way communication Jarvis had opened. “Before we know if it’s working?” Bruce and Tony glanced at each other, then down to the patient. Tony was at sea. He wasn’t hopeful but he’d love to see Bruce’s compound work its magic.

“Not really sure,” Bruce finally said, “A few hours. A few days. Maybe never. It’s a new, untried formula. And this guy has elements in his blood that shouldn’t be there. He could have a bad reaction and die. Or he could sit up and be perfectly fine in a week or two. It’s up to him and the compound now.” Clint nodded to himself and leaned against the wall, staring down at the smooth, slack face with trepidation.

Bruce and Tony looked from the man to the monitors, back and forth. Little by little, the monitors continued to dip as Sam declined. After 30 minutes, Bruce sat back on his stool, reviewing feeds from the monitors, Tony pacing the room, mirroring Dean’s movements unconsciously. After another half hour with no improvement, Bruce vowed silently to not admit defeat. But honestly, if it was going to work, it should have shown some small sign by now.


	3. Death vs Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The formula is working but Death is waiting. Dean breaks down to save his brother and the Avengers break down what they know of the Winchesters.

In the containment cell, Dean was now sitting back on the cot, hands behind his back, alternating between staring up at the ceiling, one foot moving restlessly, or straining to watch his brother, tense and unmoving. 

Clint watched him closely. He could easily read the evidence of worry and concern. He had accepted that Dean had spoken his truth and he wouldn’t fight them, but his record still rankled against his training and experience. Dean hadn’t spoken unless being actively engaged, which was the opposite of all the reports. They all stated he was a smart ass with a loud mouth and cocky attitude. Like himself and Tony. But there’d been no evidence of that so far. The worry for his brother was keeping him silent, in his own contemplation. 

Steve and Natasha had come down not long ago with dishes for everyone, plastic utensils and paper bowls with casserole and salad for Dean. Everyone else had at least nibbled at the food, thanking them for providing it. But Dean was so deep in his own thoughts that he only registered the woman coming into the room when she put the bowls on the inset shelf at the head of the bed and then uncuffed him. His eyes had shifted to the casserole and salad, back to her and then back to watching his brother. Both dishes still sat there, untouched.

From the locked cabinet on the other side of the infirmary, where Dean’s duffel had been secured, a phone began to ring. Natasha unlocked the cabinet while the others frowned in that direction. She pulled out the cell phone taken from Dean. The number showed as ‘Home’. Dean saw her with the phone in his hand and he sat up, watching her. She kept her eyes on him as she opened the phone and accepted the call, not saying a word.

“Dean!” the gravelly voice shouted. “Dean, it’s Sam! You have to stop him, NOW!”

“Who is this?” Natasha asked. No one but her could hear the man on the phone, but they could read the surprise in her face. And Dean could read the sudden tension in the rest of the room as something began to happen to Sam. He couldn’t hear anything from where he was, but the others could definitely hear and see the alarms and sirens going off as Sam had stopped breathing. 

“Get Dean!” the voice shouted again, “Tell him Death is talking to Sam.” Natasha’s eyebrows both shot up. “Please hurry! There’s no time! Tell Dean that Tessa is looking for him. He’ll understand.” The voice growled. The loud activity in the room nearly drowned out the rest, but Natasha definitely heard a different, younger voice further away from the voice say, “Got it. Go Tessa!” Then the line cut off.

Bruce and Tony were hurriedly working on Sam, the alarms still blaring. She pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it in confusion. Steve and Clint were alert, watching the activity around the bed, watching the prisoner, who was also watching it all intently, and then watching Natasha. 

She looked over at Dean. His whole body was tense, looking between her and his brother. He was standing right in front of the view window, one hand on the glass. He was pale and shaking.

‘Who was that?’ He mouthed. She debated for only a second before walking over and keying the mic.

“A man,” she told him. “He didn’t identify himself, but your ID said ‘home’.” 

“What did he say?” He asked her urgently. She debated relaying the message but something about what the unidentified caller had said changed her mind. Along with the noise of Sam’s impending demise.

“He said Tessa is looking for you,” she said cautiously, “and that you have to stop Sam because Death is talking to him.” Natasha had never thought to see someone go that pale so quickly, as his face went gray/green. Dean’s demeanor became frantic. His breathing became panicky as he ran to the door.

“Let me talk to Sam!” He shouted desperately. “I need to stop him.” The tears that had only hinted before, were beginning to form on his lower lashes, threatening to spill over. “I’m begging you, please!” Dean grew even more agitated, slamming his hands on the glass, pleading with Natasha. “Please!”

She glanced back at Steve, who shrugged but stood at attention and moved closer to the cell.

“You will need to be cuffed and you will behave,” she said. She waited for him to nod frantically.

“Anything!” he yelled, backing up and turning around, offering his wrists behind his lower back.

She keyed the door and stepped behind him, pulling his arms into the cuffs quickly, feeling the emotion thrumming through his muscles. He did not pull away, but he was shifting from foot to foot in anticipation. As soon as the second cuff was secure, she guided him into the room where his brother lay dying.

Tony and Bruce were frantically working on Sam. All of the monitors were clamoring.

Dean raced straight towards Sam’s bed, to the other side from where the superheroes worked on him. Tony flinched back, but he saw Dean’s arms were cuffed and the man only had eyes for his brother.

“Sam!” He shouted. He leaned over Sam, placing his forehead against his brother’s. “Sam, please, come back. Don’t go with him!” It was awkward leaning over Sam with his hands cuffed behind him but no one was going to release him.

They were all staring at him when Dean appeared to flinch before glancing over at empty space beside them. They all heard the quiet ‘Tessa’ that escaped his lips.

From Dean’s perspective, Tessa, the reaper, was now standing next to the brothers. She touched both of their foreheads and Dean’s mind was suddenly in Sam’s subconscious, where he found his brother sitting in a cabin, calmly talking to Death. Clint and Natasha saw him go very still. 

“Sam! You have to fight this! I can fix this, okay? But not if you shut me out,” the older man begged his brother. There was a pause as Dean’s eyes focused on the blank space just on the other side of Sam’s bed before he growled out, “You can’t take him. It’s not his time.”

For a moment, all of them felt a chill, almost as if a reply had come but none of them could hear it.

“Please listen to me,” Dean pleaded gruffly as his eyes focused back on Sam. “I made you a promise in that church. You and me, come whatever. Well, hell, if this ain’t whatever, but you got to let me help, man. There ain’t no me if there ain’t no you.” They stared at the one-sided conversation. The heartbeat on the monitor was thready and shallow. Bruce was holding the ventilator tube he had started to use when Dean had burst into the main area. He started to approach but Natasha put a hand on his arm, pausing him. Steve and Clint stood at the ready nearby, watching the two men.

“Sammy, please...” The last was a broken sob, a final plea. Dean’s harsh breaths and the clamoring equipment the only sounds.

It took another half minute before they heard the faint breath that Sam finally took in. Everyone, even Dean, looked up at the feeds. Bruce and Tony leaned forward to confirm. 

Sam released the breath, then took another one, his heartbeat picking up strength. Tony gave a nervous whoop! Dean blinked at them, a few stray tears falling as he dared to hope.

“It’s working,” Tony laughed. Bruce let out the breath he had been holding and laughed nervously.

“It’s still early but it does look like it’s working. Sam’s vitals are stabilizing. Very slowly, but they are stabilizing.” 

The older brother turned his head, tears in his eyes, and whispered to the empty air, “Thank you,” before he physically collapsed onto the floor next to the bed, onto his knees, forehead pressed to the cold tile floor as he heaved in another sob. 

Clint and Nat ran over to him to make sure he wasn’t injured from the fall. There was a small bruise on his temple where he had likely hit his head as it went past the bed railing, but otherwise he was uninjured. The room became less noisy as each feed alarm quieted as the readouts left the emergency levels. 

Bruce glanced down at his watch and did a few quick calculations based on what they had predicted the dosage schedule would be against the actual reaction time and made some notes on his Stark pad. Tony was beaming, thinking of the applications and of the people they could save with this compound. It’s what superheroes do and once again, they were doing it.

Clint and Natasha pulled Dean up off the floor and into a chair near the bed. He was still breathing heavily and muttering, ‘Thank you, God!’ softly again and again. 

“So,” Tony said after he had come down from the adrenaline rush. He was staring at Natasha, glancing meaningfully at Dean, “What the hell was that about?” Natasha glared at Tony. Steve saw the look and waited patiently.

“The call was odd, to say the least.” She looked over to Dean but his eyes and mind were completely on the young man in the bed. “The man on the other end was shouting. He said that Dean needed to stop Sam because Death was talking to him.” Dean’s breath hitched as he got himself under control and shifted up straighter.

“What do you mean, he was talking to Death? Euphemism for dying? How would he know?” Steve asked, head tilted slightly.

“No,” Dean’s voice cracked, “Death was talking to him. Big difference.”

Tony’s eyebrow quirked up. He turned at the waist and shared a sarcastic look with Bruce.

“Melodramatic much?” Tony smirked. But Clint was the one who was curious now.

He felt the goosebumps form all over his body, something significant having happened that he couldn’t explain. Natasha was wide eyed next to him and he was almost certain she had the same reaction. Bruce and Tony were trying to science the hell out of it.

“It was pure psychology,” Bruce said, returning to the calculations he was doing. “The compound is working but Sam and Dean were separated. They are so co-dependent emotionally, that Sam needed to hear Dean’s voice to remind him he’s supposed to fight to live.”

This time it was Dean who scoffed.

“Death is a horseman,” he said. “Death loves pickle chips and Chicago style pizza. He can be cold but he’s so old he told me he’d reap God eventually. He had Sam dead to rights, had come to collect him personally, to make it permanent, and all I did was convince Sam to turn Death down and not go with him yet, to give me a chance to fix it. Believe me or not, but if Tessa hadn’t gone to Cas looking for me and Cas hadn’t called, your medicine or treatments wouldn’t have worked no matter how much you gave him.”

Bruce and Tony gaped at him.

“Now, don’t get me wrong,” he continued in his south midwestern accent, “My talking to him didn’t do it alone. Your medicine and my brother’s stubbornness worked together to work this miracle. I’m grateful, so damned grateful. I really am. But I am too fucking tired to play games. Take it as you will, but Sammy has beaten demons, werewolves, vampires, even Lucifer. Now, he’s beaten back Death. He’s a freak of nature and I wouldn’t have him any other way.” Dean leaned his head and rubbed his cheeks on his shoulder, wiping away the tear remnants. As his eyes cleared and he swept a look over Sam’s entire body, he saw the wrist restraints and he shook his head sadly.

Tony’s forehead scrunched up, deep in thought. Something was niggling at his mind. That thing bothering him earlier was back with a vengeance but he still couldn’t place it. All of this was familiar. He knew it had never happened before that he remembered but there was something about it he recognized. 

“What did you mean by making it ‘permanent’?” Tony asked finally. “Being dead is the end. That’s all folks. It’s the very definition of permanent.” Dean shook his head slowly.

“Nah, man. Me and Sam, we’ve both come back before. Never sure which one will be the last, but if Death was there personally, there weren’t goin’ to be anymore loopholes.”

“Loopholes?” Tony scoffed. “For dying? Come on.” Dean shrugged.

“You know how they say the only certainties are death and taxes? Yeah, no certainties there either if you know the right people or things.” 

Bruce shrugged off Dean’s speech.

“Okay,” Bruce said, reading his notes. “We need to give him a new dose every 9-10 hours. Typically, it’s more like every 24 hours, but with this formula, it should work faster. Seven more courses, each vial is one dose. Tony and I can trade off the dosing. It’ll have to go directly into his vein, not the IV, because it’s thicker than the IV tube can circulate. His next dose will be in 8 hours. We’ll take new bloodwork and RIID readings before each dose to monitor the changes.”

“Tasha, return our guest to his cell,” Steve said. “Then join us in the private meeting room upstairs in 10 minutes.” She nodded briefly, then went over to Dean and took his upper arm, pulling him to standing.

“Okay, back to the holding cell,” she said. Dean started to protest but looking down at Sam’s face, knowing it was only a matter of time before those hazel eyes were open, he nodded gruffly and went along quietly.

Before the door could close behind Natasha and the prisoner, Steve asked Jarvis if the call had been traced. Jarvis had replied immediately that it had been attempted but it was unsuccessful as the signal had bounced around quite a bit. Dean smiled to himself that the bunker was so warded that even the Avengers couldn’t trace it back there. Kevin and Cas had to be safe. 

She uncuffed Dean before sealing him in. He instantly fell onto the small bed on his stomach and fell asleep, face turned towards the viewing window into the infirmary, having been awake for the past few days, by Sam’s side most of the time. He could finally rest.

*****

Jarvis had the containment cell locked down and under surveillance, as well as the rest of the infirmary. The Avengers came into the room and settled around the table, except Steve, who stood looking out of the window. Steve glanced up to the camera in the corner of the room.

“Jarvis, please set up a video feed with the cell and the infirmary patient, one-way sound for each separately.” 

“Certainly, sir,” the voice responded. There were several transparent monitors around the room, with two directly over the large table. Two of the monitors on the far wall immediately displayed the views of both the sleeping prisoner and comatose patient/prisoner. 

“Thank you, Jarvis,” the soldier smiled. Tony and Bruce both had tablets open, the surfaces filled with the various readouts from the monitoring equipment. Tony was beginning to flag, having been up for a few days straight working on other projects before Bruce had taken on Sam’s case and brought the two men into their midst. Bruce didn’t look as tired but had gotten decent sleep last night. Clint sat to the right of Bruce, leaning back in the chair, his eyes alternating between glancing around the room and down at the tablet where he was watching Dean sleep.

Natasha was alert. She was the least tired of the Avengers as this week had been downtime for her. No missions and plenty of sleep until yesterday morning when Bruce had called from the hospital in Randolph. 

It was now nighttime in New York City, the two-way film over the glass here in the conference room gave them all a spectacular view of the city as the sun began to set and the city itself began to light up as life continued past dusk. No one could see into the room, but they could see out. Steve took advantage of that as he stood looking out onto the city, marveling at the sheer mass and sprawl of 8.5 million people. His thoughts drifted from the external of the tower back to the internal, turning to face his team. 

“While I’d prefer Thor be here as well, we need to share intel sooner rather than later. First, thoughts on what just happened while it’s fresh in everyone’s minds?”

“None of you honestly believe any of that shit he said, right?” Tony said with a sarcastic smile. Clint took a deep breath in, causing everyone to look over at him. He threw his head back as he tried to think of the best way to reply.

“Tony,” Clint finally said, looking directly into his friend’s eyes. “I’ve been an assassin for a long time.”

“Uh huh,” Tony said suspiciously.

“I’ve seen things that can’t be explained.” Clint’s voice was soft, hesitant now. He was opening up about things he’d never told anyone, except Phil, who had taken them to his grave. Natasha’s face was unreadable to all but him and he saw the concern and interest in the slight narrowing of her eyes. “None of it ever went into any reports because who the fuck would believe me?” He shrugged.

“I’ve been that last heartbeat close to dead myself a few times.” The archer rolled his shoulders gently. “Death was waiting right around the corner for me. But so far, I’ve walked away from him and back into my body each time. I’ve always been saved by some innocuous coincidence every single time. A person in the right place, usually Coulson or Nat, a phone call at the right time, a bird taking a dump on a white car instead of a green one.” He chuckled at the look on all of their faces. That was a story for another time.

“But yes, I’ve seen Death. Looked the bastard in the eye on occasion. I don’t remember his face, but he remembers mine and honestly, that scares me.” Clint intertwined his fingers on his stomach and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Tony’s eyes widened and he thought of making a scathing, wise ass comment to lighten the room, but the earnest look he’d seen on Dean’s face, now Clint’s when discussing Death, made all comments dry up. Instead, he sat in the silence following Clint’s speech, adding this new piece of intel to his mental file of Clint Barton, spy-ninja-assassin, mystery man.

“Anyone else?” Steve asked once he cleared his throat. Bruce had already had his say about the psychology of it and apparently for Tony it was all about the explainable. Natasha added nothing but he didn’t expect her to. He himself had no more to say on it either.

“Okay, Natasha,” Steve started the meeting, watching all of them quiet and turn to face him. Clint instantly sat up, becoming alert for this. “Give us a rundown of these two men, Dean Winchester, and his brother, Sam.” 

Natasha tapped on her tablet, throwing the records and mugshots up onto the transparent screen that rose up from the table. She sat up straighter, making certain aspects larger or smaller as needed as she spoke.

“Dean Michael Winchester, the eldest son of John and Mary Winchester, was born January 24th, 1979, in Lawrence, Kansas. John was ex-marine, turned mechanic. Mary was a housewife. May 2nd, 1983, Samuel William Winchester was born to the same parents. On the day Sam turned six months old, November 2nd, 1983, his nursery caught fire. His father was able to save 4 yr old Dean and infant Sam, but Mary died in the fire. Records show John only returned to the house to retrieve clothing for the boys. He never returned to work. He only ever had one vehicle registered to his name, a 1967 Chevy Impala.

“From what we were able to locate, they drifted on and off the grid for a few years before falling completely off of it around Dean’s 6th birthday, not showing up again until Sam was enrolled in kindergarten for the first time at age five. Dean was enrolled at the same elementary school, but neither were there or any other school for more than a month or two at a time. Then they would be removed and be enrolled at a new school in a new town. The school employees only ever saw John Winchester on the day of enrollment and the day of withdrawal, and not always the latter. Sometimes they just stopped turning up for school and they were forgotten until a new school somewhere else would request the records. The official story was that their father was a travelling salesman and that as a single father with no family, which was true, he had to take the boys with him wherever they went. 

“The first official hint of real problems started with the first report by one of Dean’s teachers that she found bruises all over his back and one arm and his story was he had fallen down some stairs. She reported it as abuse and they were pulled from the school and left town that night. Dean was ten. This continued, school to school, town to town, state to state. Dean became more belligerent as he got older, more smart-mouthed and as he grew into his looks, became a womanizer, a user. But there were more reports of deep scratches, bruises, and the occasional bullet wound. He took his GED to finish school when he was 18. 

“Sam was very different than his brother. He was always praised by all his teachers as ‘inciteful, intelligent, and sensitive.’ He excelled in all of his classes but was noted as shy, perhaps because of the constant moving. Sam’s first reported incident of abuse didn’t come until he was 12. One forensic psychologist speculated that it was because he had Dean to teach him how to hide any injuries. His reported injuries include broken bones, bruises, cuts, infections but no bullet wounds. Sam graduated from high school with very good grades, applied to Stanford and was accepted, along with a full scholarship to cover all costs. A note in his college record states that his father refused to allow him to attend and threw Sam out of the house because he insisted on going. This is confirmed by the fact he stayed in Palo Alto, California, for all holidays while he was enrolled.”

Tony and Bruce were checking on Sam again, this information having gained their attention.

“Sam passed his LSAT with a 174 and had an interview scheduled for Law School on Monday, November 3rd, 2005. His live-in girlfriend, Jessica Moore, was killed in a fire in their apartment the night before, November 2nd, exactly 18 years after his mother died the same way.”

Tony had been looking very impressed at evidence of Sam’s obvious intelligence, when he caught that tidbit.

“Hold on,” he said, holding up a finger, “Are you implying that Sam killed them both? I mean, the date is too much of a coincidence, but he was just an infant when his mom died.” Natasha looked down at him.

“I imply nothing. I only convey the facts. There are lots of speculation in various reports about the significance of these deaths, but none have been proven. The most prominent speculation is that John killed Mary, then when Sam slipped from under his control, he killed his son’s girlfriend to drag him back home. The next most prominent is that John killed Mary, and then Sam was so traumatized or maybe brainwashed by his father’s crazy, alcoholic, survivalist mentality, that he killed his girlfriend himself on the anniversary of his mother’s death. There are other thoughts that include that you could replace John’s name with Dean’s, and that someone has been stalking the family, and is focused on Sam.”

Tony scoffed.

“A murderous obsession with an infant? That follows him through to college? I mean, come on.” Bruce shrugged.

“Natasha, Clint, your honest opinions?” Steve asked them. Clint and Natasha shared another complicated look, marked by small facial tics and shoulder movements. 

“Cap,” Clint said finally, “If this was the end of the story, I’d go with one where Dean is the killer. Every report makes mention that these two are dangerously co-dependent. I could see toddler Dean becoming obsessed with his baby brother and not wanting to share him with anyone. He could have started the fire that killed his mom, even if accidentally. Now, the man we currently have in handcuffs,” Clint said, indicating the video feed of Dean, “I can tell you from the way he moves and the videos I’ve seen of him in action, he is very capable of killing. His moral compass, though, I can’t define yet, although the reports all share the fact that he’s dangerously overprotective of his brother.” Natasha agreed with him. Steve nodded, then indicated for Natasha to continue.

“Dean’s record is extensive, but he’s older and had traveled with his father far longer than Sam did. With the mail fraud, credit card fraud and petty theft charges, it’s obvious his father taught him to be a grifter. The other, more serious charges don’t seem to appear until the father disappeared altogether in early 2006. He hasn’t been seen or heard from since. By this time, Sam had left school to travel with his brother. From there, the charges include grave desecration, assault, breaking and entering, armed robbery, kidnapping, arson, and mass murder.

“Sam’s record was much milder until about a year ago. Before then, he only had grave desecration, b&e, assault, and accessory to murder. Then, there was that murder spree they went on that was all over YouTube. That added mass murder to their repertoires.

“Several comments call Sam the ‘half-wit little brother’ that Dean dragged around, perhaps coerced into his rampage. Other comments state that Sam is actually the brains of the two and that Dean’s rampage only increased after Sam left school. There are also multiple reports of Dean being declared dead, including a few where they actually had a body that matched his DNA and appearance. Not sure how they pulled that off.” Natasha sat down, pulling the information back to the tablet. He shook his head as he looked through what she had just presented, although he had seen it before. 

There were muffled comments as Bruce and Tony compared thoughts and notes. Steve called on Bruce.

“Dr. Banner, please start from this morning,” Steve said. He gestured to the room and Bruce stood up, fiddling with his glasses as he walked around the table. 

“Jarvis, can you project the cctv from the Linwood Memorial Hospital from this morning that I requested?”

“Certainly, Dr. Banner,” the AI responded. On the same transparent screen was now displayed a standard surveillance camera showing the interior of a hospital corridor, specifically the one outside the room where Sam had been. The first video was of Dean standing outside the room, his arm up on the wall, his forehead on his forearm. You could make out that his eyes were closed as he leaned on the wall and that his lips were moving. He appeared to be praying. The image froze on this.

“I was asked to help out at this particular hospital this morning because the lead specialist had been called away suddenly across the country for a family emergency. He’s an old acquaintance, so I agreed to help out on the 24-hour shift that started at 2am. His specialty is oncology, but radiation poisoning is similar in the appearance of symptoms, with the main difference being that oncological spread is very much slower than radiation sickness. In oncology, the patient can have years for treatments. In radiation poisoning cases, it could be hours, maybe days, but never more than a week.

“It wasn’t long after 9am when Dr. Grant, one of the other resident oncology doctors, called me and asked if I could consult on a really unusual and urgent case. He sent me the test results and I just had to at least talk to the family to see if they could solve this mystery. 

“See, this strapping young man had been brought in very late the night before, in a coma and very ill. His brother,” Bruce said, pointing to the frozen image on the screen, “told the ER that Sam hadn’t been feeling well for about a week, but had finally collapsed last night while they were enjoying the meteor shower. He gave them the names, Dean and Sam Dougherty, with insurance cards and credit cards and everything. Now, the results themselves were extraordinary. If they hadn’t told me differently, I would have assumed they were asking me to consult on a corpse that was found. That much damage, that much exposure should have killed him days ago. How he was still alive, apparently walking and talking until the night before, was impossible.

“But as soon as Dr. Grant and I stepped into that room, the Other Guy could feel the massive amount of gamma radiation in this guy. I still can.” Everyone looked up sharply at that revelation.

“Doctor,” Steve asked for everyone, “you’re not saying he’s radioactive, are you? Should we even be near him?”

“Banner, what the hell?” Clint said incredulously, dropping his hands to cover his privates. Tony snickered.

Bruce immediately held up both his hands.

“Not radioactive in the sense you’re thinking,” he told them. “We’ve used the Geiger counter, Tony’s RIID, and other equipment and there’s no radiation particles escaping.”

“Escaping?” Natasha tilted her head. Tony scowled at Bruce.

“You don’t mean you believe what we were talking about earlier with the angel and demon crap, do you? That’s just Dean’s delusions.” They all eyed Bruce, waiting for clarification.

“On the jet, Dean gave me his explanation for how the radiation poisoning happened,” Bruce continued, pacing a little. “Jarvis, play the recording from the jet yesterday morning.”

The screen changed to an overhead view of Bruce and Dean sitting and talking next to a strapped down Sam. It started from the time Dean asked him to confirm he was the Hulk. They all sat and listened to the seemingly crazy confession.

“Between the RIID’s readings, the Other Guy’s sensitivity, and what I gleaned from Dean’s story, we hit on a broad type of solar radiation, mainly gamma. If you view the story as anecdotal, he believed he was receiving energy from God, the light in Heaven, or the sun, the light in the heavens. Now standard solar radiation doesn’t do much damage beyond 3rd degree burns on the outside, but his burns are all internal. We still don’t know how it was directed into Sam. Maybe some technology. Or maybe this magic word deal. We don’t know. But it’s still trapped inside him, destroying him from the inside out. He’s like a giant containment unit but none of the radiation is leaking. It’s in there.” Now they had a new concern.

“Are you saying he’s a nuclear bomb?” Natasha asked with concern. “Should he still be here?”

“Should WE still be here?” Steve asked.

“Honestly, the formula Tony and I came up with based on my own original variation of the super serum, should dampen and begin draining off the energy more and more as the doses go. And no, it won’t create another Hulk.” Everyone started to relax back into their seats.

“The good doctor here,” Tony said, side-eying Bruce in irritation, “and I, came up with a final compound that would directly interact with different types of radiation to negate it completely over the course of treatment. Our calculations require 8 total doses, 1 down, 7 to go. After that first dose, we nearly lost him, but I believe that was because he was already so close to full system failure that if we’d have been even a half hour later, he’d be in a body bag.

“It was definitely touch and go. It had been about an hour and half after the initial dose. He had already been declining before that and continued after it had been administered. He just went into respiratory failure. All the monitor alarms went off. Jarvis noted that he wasn’t breathing, and his pulse was weak, slowing down. So, I was going to set him up on the ventilator, trying to find out what I could shore up to bring him back. And then that phone call and Dean’s little show.

“I mean, it was too much of a coincidence. Dean was just leaning over his brother, begging him not to die. I mean, I’ve seen people do that a few times, but this was one of the few times I almost expected his brother to just sit up and hug him. But he didn’t. He did, however, start breathing on his own again and stabilized, and we’re happy to report that all of his vitals are still rising. Barely out of the critical range, but in the right direction.”

“That’s good, doctor,” Steve leaned forward on the table with both hands. “Now, what about the battle at the hospital?”

“While I was in the consult with Dr. Grant, Dean walked in with another man.” On cue, the image changed to a video showing Dean coming down the hall and walking into the room with the other man trailing behind.

“Any clue who he is?” Steve asked.

“His name is Davis Sinclair,” Natasha answered. “He’s a bartender from Wyoming. No criminal record, no life outside that bar to speak of. No real reason for him to be there with Dean in the hospital.”

“We’ll have to ask Dean later,” Steve says. “Do we know where he is now?”

“No, there’s nothing on his current location,” Natasha shook her head.

“Dean called him Ezekiel,” Bruce told them before continuing with his report. “Dean and I talked, and I offered to see what I could do for his brother. I had no clue who they were, but with the uniqueness of the situation, I would do it again.” He looked around, his chin out, defying anyone of them to naysay him. Steve put up a hand placatingly, so Bruce continued.

“Dean accepted my offer to try to help Sam, but it seemed the other man wasn’t so happy about it. I left with Dr. Grant, calling Tony for transport and filling him in. I was down in my temporary office space, completing the transfer paperwork, when there was this high-pitched ringing coming from everywhere and the building started to vibrate. I thought it was an attack on the city. But I heard reports of other disturbances on the same floor where Dean and his brother were so I ran upstairs.”

The scene on the screen changed to Dean, carrying a shiny silver blade, coming out of the room and facing down the trio of people wielding the same type of blade. There was no sound, but Clint could read lips. The camera position only showed the back of Dean’s head, so Clint could only relay the words of the attackers.

“Where is Castiel?” Clint said, leaning forward. “Give us the traitor of Heaven or we’ll kill your brother, then you.”

The scene progressed to where Thor appeared to simply walk onto the screen from nowhere and stopped beside Dean, who flinched, but recovered quickly. Clint, Natasha, and Steve were impressed.

“Stay out of this, pagan insect.” Clint interpreted. He snorted. “I would have loved to have been there to see Thor’s reaction to that one.”

“Right?” Tony snorted from his side.

Then the trio attacked and Thor and Dean defended. They watched the god of Thunder’s grace and power in the hammer swings. It was familiar and easy. They also watched Dean’s brutal but deadly slashes, thrusts and parries. He threw some punches as well, the hits barely registering on either of the three, but they doubted it was lack of power on Dean’s part. They knew he was well muscled. It was the trio of attackers that shocked them. All three couldn’t have looked more disparate but they all had the same attacks, same stances. Like they had all been trained at the same time by the same person.

Soon enough all three were down but not out, trying, but with great effort, to get up and resume the attack.

“This is when I arrived,” Bruce said. 

The view showed the three of them running into the room and the door closed. It froze there.

“Ezekiel was inside. All the monitors attached to Sam were going off, signaling that he was spiraling and would most likely be dead within minutes. I made sure to check Sam to verify it personally. This Ezekiel guy kept yelling for Dean to help his save his brother, that only he could do it by possessing him. I told Dean the monitors had been tampered with and that Sam was still stable. Dean must have drawn his conclusions because he went over to the wall by the door where there were these markings drawn all over the walls. He called them sigils. I didn’t even notice them until then. But they were all over the walls and the door. Dean used the blade he had to cut his hand and told Thor to open the door. 

“I didn’t know what was going on, but Thor just did it. Ezekiel was panicking and the three crazy people ran in towards us. Dean slapped the marking with his bloody hand and everything went white. This really bright light was everywhere.”

The video moved forward to show the attackers raging at the door, then the door opening, and a brilliant flash of white light spilling out into the hallway. 

“What was that?” Steve asked. “Any idea?”

“None,” Bruce shook his head. “But when it was gone, so were the three crazy people and Ezekiel. That’s when Thor told me Natasha had arrived, so we headed up to the roof.”

The video showed Thor come striding out, looking around before gesturing behind him. Dean came out next, carrying his unconscious brother, with Bruce right behind him. And then they hurried down the hall and the video ended.

“There’re other shots of us going down hallways and up the stairwell to the roof, even the shot of us boarding the jet, but there were no more attacks or anything to be gained from viewing it all.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Steve said as Bruce returned to his seat. “So, now that we’re all on the same page, I think the main topics from here on out should be the attackers. Who were they and what are they?”

Tony scoffed, throwing himself back in his chair.

“According to Dean,” Bruce said, “They were angels.” Clint rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“I don’t know about angels,” Natasha said, “but they were comrades in arms, military trained. Not any specific military I can identify, but they all used the same stances, attacks. It was like the same person, just duplicated.” Clint nodded his head in agreement.

“And where is this Castiel person?” Clint asked. “A lot of this seems to center around him. Those people were attempting to kill Dean and his brother to get to him. Even Dean said that it was Castiel who caused it, even if he was tricked into it. Maybe he can shed more light on this.”

“I agree,” Steve said, “but the trace came up empty and we don’t know where to even begin to look. All we have is a first name. We’ll need more information from Dean later.” He looked from face to face and saw Tony and Bruce hiding yawns and even Clint was beginning to show signs of fatigue. Natasha looked the freshest as she had been on downtime with no missions this past week. He himself was beginning to feel the effects of all the adrenaline of the day. 

“Okay, let’s break. Everyone get some sleep.” Steve yawned. “Jarvis, initiate a lockdown on the infirmary and containment room. Please use priority one alert if the prisoner makes any move of aggression or attempts to escape.”

“And the same if the patient’s vitals drop or spike at all,” Bruce added on.

“Very good, sirs,” Jarvis replied.

“We’ll reconvene after breakfast, in about 6 hours.” Steve nodded around the room and they gathered tablets and headed out to scatter into the Tower, Tony and Bruce going to their rooms for some needed sleep. Natasha and Clint headed to the range on the lower floors to work out some tension before they could rest. Steve wandered past the infirmary and stared in the window at the sleeping men, one comatose, the other passed out in exhaustion, fully clothed in the containment room that had been built to hold the Hulk when he couldn’t be controlled. He sighed after a few minutes, his thoughts sad and confused before he went to his own room to rest. 


	4. Moose and Squirrel vs Crowley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam wakes up. The Avengers retrieve Baby and find Crowley.

As expected, six hours later, all of the Avengers in residence were up and moving about their tasks. Natasha and Clint met with Tower security to determine any suspicious characters or activity recently. Tony and Bruce grabbed a light breakfast in the common kitchen before heading back to the infirmary, both having reviewed the readouts on their tablets over the island and discussing next steps. Steve had grabbed a shower before asking Jarvis to report on the prisoner. Jarvis had replayed some snippets of the containment room from the night before after assuring Steve that Dean Winchester was sleeping quite deeply. The man had apparently had a few nightmares overnight. He had called for his brother as he twisted and turned, frowning before settling back into restless sleep.

Steve checked in with each team member and asked them to reconvene in the same conference room so they could have a little further discussion and some updates before the next treatment dose was needed on the younger brother.

Less than 30 minutes later, the five Avengers were again seated around the conference table. 

Natasha and Clint reported that there was nothing unexpected against the Tower in the night. Tony and Bruce gave their update that Sam had not really improved a great deal, but the upward tick of the vitals was very promising. Steve had Jarvis repeat his earlier report and videos of Dean’s night.

“Jarvis, open a two-way feed to the cell.”

“Yes, sir,” the AI responded. 

The man had fallen onto the cot fully clothed, not that any of them objected to him not stripping in front of Nat, who had seen a hell of a lot more than a naked man before. He was on his stomach, one arm and boots hanging off the side. His other arm was wrapped around his back as if he hadn’t even had time to pull it back around after the handcuffs were removed before he fell asleep. His face was turned towards his brother on the pillow. He was snoring and perhaps drooling a little. The food still sat untouched on the shelf above him. 

“Dean,” Natasha said, projecting her voice into the cell. On her screen, Dean grunted. “Dean,” she repeated, louder. He pushed up on his arms and looked around. Dean grunted, muttering, then blinked and turned his head. He saw that the viewing window now had a rectangular section transformed into a live video feed of the meeting room with all the Avengers sitting around it, staring at him.

“Damn, that’s cool,” Dean sat up quickly, mumbling in awe. Tony gave a smug look. “Sam?” He blinked the sleep from his eyes, glancing around the video feed at Sam’s bed. “Is he okay?”

“Your brother is resting and still improving, Mr. Winchester,” Steve said. Dean relaxed a little and rubbed his hands over this face and yawned. 

“Dean, just call me Dean. And what’s up?” Steve held up his hand first.

“Who was the man with you at the hospital, the one in the room when you met Dr. Banner the first time?” Dean tilted his head.

“He told me his name was Ezekiel,” Dean replied. “He was lying. I don’t know who he was really, but he’s one of the angels.”

“How did you meet him?” Steve asked. Dean sighed and hung his head.

“After I found out Cas had lost his mojo, I was desperate to save Sam.” He looked up again, this time directly at the where he figured the camera was, the panel on the inside of his room by the door. “I made an all-call prayer to any angel who could help and told them where to find us. I should have known every last one of them were dicks.”

“So, the angels can’t find you unless you pray to them?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, me and Sam are hidden from the angels though. That’s probably why they haven’t attacked here yet. They don’t know where we went. It’s these Enochian carvings on our ribs,” Dean said patting his ribcage.

“Pardon?” Bruce asked. “Enochian carvings on your ribs?” He and Tony stared at each other in astonishment.

“Both me and Sam. They only show up on xrays. Happy to share my body if it helps,” Dean said.

“We will take you up on that shortly,” Tony replied.

Dean just waved his hand dismissively at the camera and lay back down, closing his eyes.

“Dean.” Natasha prodded. He opened his eyes and sat up unsteadily, leaning against the headboard. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he rumbled, blearily rubbing his face. “I’m up.”

“We need to get some more information from you.” He just nodded. 

“Mr. Win-, Dean,” Steve said, “We’ve already reviewed both of your criminal and medical records. We also have the video recordings from the hallway where you and Thor battled in the hospital. What’s time critical is the event that brought us all together. We have also gathered that whoever these people are, that they are probably still after both of you and will likely attempt to locate you here.”

Dean nodded.

“We need to know more about them, why they are so adamant about killing you both, and how to stop them. From what you told Dr. Banner, it seems they are looking for your friend and believe they can find him through you and Sam. Who is Castiel and where is he?”

“Okay,” Dean said, staring up at the camera from his position on the bed, “I’m going to give it to you as straight as I can.” Clint and Tony snickered. Bruce and Natasha glared at them and they stopped.

“Please and thank you,” Steve acknowledged.

“Not sure what the doc told you about our conversation on the jet, but that ‘spontaneous global meteor shower’ a few nights ago? Not a meteor shower. Angels being cast out of Heaven. My friend, Cas, was an angel before that happened. He thought he was saving humanity by helping Metatron, the angel scribe of God, work a spell. Metatron lied to him, stole his grace as the last ingredient for the spell, and now Cas is human. The spell locked Heaven and cast the angels down to earth.”

Everyone was looking at him incredulously, but he just shrugged.

“Angels can’t interact with Earth unless they take a vessel, a human host, for them to control. A meatsuit that they run around in. There are rules they have to follow, like they have to have permission to possess a human. Now, demons don’t ask, they just take. Me and Sam learned the hard way how to kick demons out and keep from being possessed by one.” He then pulled down the neckline of his shirt, showing them the anti-possession tattoo. “Sam’s got one too.

“These only work on demons, but as long as you don’t say yes to an angel, they can’t get you. The big difference is, if an angel possesses you, you can kick them out, unless it’s an archangel, but they’re all dead or locked away. If a demon does it, it takes a full exorcism, best done in Latin. The angels are angry at Cas because they see him as a traitor, disobeying Heaven’s orders to help me and Sam fight Lucifer and Michael’s big plans for the apocalypse, and they blame him for helping with the spell that cast them out of Heaven. They don’t care that he was tricked.

“The big thing to know is that neither angels nor demons die by mortal weapons. They can only be hurt or killed by special weapons, like that rune etched knife Agent Romanoff was holding earlier, and even then, only if they’re in a vessel. That’s a demon blade and kills any demon. Kills the host too, but sometimes you don’t have a choice. And demons don’t play nice with the host and usually kill them before they take possession so there’s no soul to fight back. So, using the demon blade on them usually only kills the demon as the host is already dead.

“For Angels, so far the only thing we’ve found that kills them is that silver sword in my duffel. It’s an Angel Blade. It does kill the angel and the host, and that’s the bad part because usually the host is still alive and kicking in there, so you’re killing them too. Now, you’d think angels would be sweet, choir-loving, harp-playing things, only there to protect and guide you. Nah, forget that. They’re politicians, dicks. They are like a cruel military outfit. They fight evil, each other, whoever God or the archangels tell them to.

“As for why they’re trying to kill us, we shut the apocalypse down before it really started and told the archangels to fuck off, that they weren’t using us as angel condoms. And they think we corrupted Cas because he chose helping us save the world over helping them take it over.

“Not sure what else I can tell you,” Dean sighed, taking a deep breath, a yawn following it. Dean was still watching Sam in the infirmary and he was less tense being able to see him. It was silent for a moment as they all digested it. 

“Your best friend is an angel,” Tony finally said sarcastically. Dean just rolled his eyes.

“He was, but he’s human now.”

“How very convenient,” Tony said, huffing.

“Actually,” Dean groaned, “It’s the most inconvenient timing. If he still had his mojo, he could come here and be proof…,” Dean stopped suddenly and looked up. “Hey, can you guys bring my car from the hospital to here?”

“Yes,” Steve replied with a frown, “Why do you ask?” Dean smiled tiredly.

“There’s weapons and stuff in there that can help you guys defend this place. Holy oil, spell ingredients,” he said. “Oh, and, uh, don’t open the trunk until you get it here, safely under lock and key. No, it’s not rigged with a bomb or anything. But it’s warded against angels and demons and if you open it, they could take away any chance we have to stop them.”

“Not that we do or don’t believe you,” Steve said slowly, trying to wrap his mind around how his belief in God could incorporate or disbelieve Dean’s claims, “But where is your friend, this Cas fellow, now?”

“Look,” Dean said slowly, “He is human right now, so he’s no help to any of us. He’s in hiding and it’s bad enough that Sam and I are in danger and now we’ve put all of you in the line of fire. I don’t think dragging his un-feathered ass over here is going to do anyone any good.” Steve sighed to himself. He could respect the man protecting his friend if he was vulnerable, but there was still more information needed. 

The monitoring readouts on Tony’s and Bruce’s tablets were beginning to take their full attention. They both murmured quietly to each other. Dean’s attention flickered from them to Sam once he saw them both more animated, but now he caught a change in Sam’s face. He stood up and focused completely on Sam. Steve, Natasha, and Clint noticed and turned to look behind them at the feed.

Dean could read Sam’s expressions from across the distance and he knew his brother’s face almost as well as his own. Sam’s slack face was now creasing, scrunching up minutely, but enough to see the movement. They now had their full attention to the infirmary feed and could now see Sam’s hands begin to curl as he moved his fingers.

“It’s too early,” Bruce said urgently, a little louder than he meant. He glanced up and saw all of them looking between him and the feed to the man in question. He glanced over at it. “He’s waking up, but it’s way too early.”

“He needs me beside him,” Dean said. Natasha and Steve exchanged a look. Behind them, Sam began to moan, and his eyelids fluttered. His face was furrowed as though in pain and a fine sheen of sweat was beginning to form.

“Bruce?” Steve asked, undecided.

“With radiation poisoning, it’s damaged a lot of tissue and he’s waking up in a hell of a lot of pain.” Bruce and Tony were already up and moving out of the room rapidly, heading to the infirmary. 

“I need to be there, touching him, talking to him,” Dean growled. “If he wakes up with strangers, or being held down, he’s going to freak out. I can calm him down.” As if on cue, Sam moaned and moved his head slightly.

They were all out the door before anyone could respond. Dean stood anxiously shifting from foot to foot, wringing his hands as he waited for anyone to appear. Bruce and Tony were there first, ignoring Dean in favor of unlocking and throwing open a secure cabinet and discussing the painkilling/sedation method that should be used, not that Dean could hear any of it. The other three were not far behind them, Steve stopping at the hospital bed to watch the young man writhe noisily. Clint and Natasha dashed into the cell, grabbed Dean’s hands, and cuffed him again, in front of this waist this time, before running back into the main infirmary. Dean was breathing hard, his face set in hard lines. They could hear the keening coming from Sam. Tony was on the computer, reviewing different medicine combinations.

“Oh god,” Bruce said mostly to himself, as he was filling a syringe. Sam’s keening became grunts, rough and guttural between gasps of air. The volume was growing as Sam began to toss his head, sweaty hair flopping.

“Tell us what you need,” Steve said, ready to jump in. Dean ran to the head of the bed, eyes wide. He grabbed the sides of Sam’s face.

“When I tell you, hold him down so I can get this into him.” Clint and Steve nodded curtly, moving into position, Steve on the left side of Sam at his chest, Clint moving down on the right side, at his legs. Natasha waited by the door, out the way, but ready if needed.

Bruce dropped the vial back onto the table and stepped quickly over to Sam, the syringe at the ready. He nodded at them and they went into action. Steve pressed down on the twisting shoulders and Clint laid his weight across the hips and upper thighs that twitched and pulled. Clint also grabbed Sam’s arm, turning it and holding it as still as he could for Bruce to get to the IV port. Bruce felt with his empty hand for the IV and jabbed the needle in, pressing the plunger.

Sam’s head was moving faster now, face scrunched as if in a deep nightmare. His entire body were now clenching and unclenching. Bruce backed up out of the way.

“Sam!” Dean said loudly, putting his hands on both side of Sam’s face. “Sammy! Can you hear me?” 

Sam wailed as his back arched up. Steve rode the wave of the arch, putting more strength behind his hold but was nearly bucked completely off. Dean tried to touch his forehead to Sam’s, but he was thrashing too violently.

“I’m here. I’ve got ya, little brother.” Dean was trying to get his brother to hear him, not wanting him to be making the horrifying sounds that were coming out of him.

“Gaaaaaaaaahhhh!” Sam screamed as his body began to shake almost as badly as a seizure. His hair was flying now, his entire body was soaked in sweat. Dean looked at Bruce imploringly. He saw Bruce’s guilty expression. 

“It should kick in,” Bruce offered shakily. But only seconds later, Sam was now screaming silently, his neck arched, head back, eyes open and glassy, entire body no longer shaking, but strained with minute vibrations, arched back and knees lifting up both Steve and Clint like they didn’t weigh an ounce. Clint likened it to a bowstring pulled to the breaking point. Steve and Clint doubled down, holding on for all they were worth. The monitors began to wail again as Sam’s heart raced, his blood pressure spiked, and his O2 level took a dive because he couldn’t catch a breath. 

Bruce and Tony scrambled back to the medicines to find something to counteract the one just administered and perhaps relieve the pain the first one was supposed to have relieved.

Dean was still touching Sam’s face, his nose now bloody where Sam had slammed into his face when he started thrashing. But Dean didn’t back away. He was still talking calmly to Sam, trying to center him. 

Bruce inserted a new liquid into the IV and stepped back. A few seconds later, Clint felt the bowstring begin to gain slack. Sam’s head stopped thrashing first, now just shaking as his jaw worked. The taut muscles relaxed little by little, leaving Sam trembling like a leaf. Steve let up on his chest and felt Sam take a few, gulping breaths, his eyes closing again.

Clint could hear Bruce and Tony both give their own shuddering breaths of relief.

“Sam,” Dean said again, now able to lay his forehead to Sam’s. Sam still groaned and moaned, but much less than before. “Sammy, can you hear me?” Sam gulped more air, quieting a little more. His eyelids fluttered and opened a sliver. The blurry hazel eyes rolled under the eyelids before settling on the green ones inches away for only a second.

“Dean,” Sam gasped.

“I got ya, Sammy,” Dean said, “Can you tell me what you’re feeling?” Sam shook his head slowly, his eyes closing again, rolling wildly. He wasn’t thrashing as much but was still pulling against the pressure of Steve and Clint across his body, holding him down. “You gotta try, Sam. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you’re feeling.” He felt Sam shiver violently and swallow around the next quiet word. 

“Luci…” Sam breathed into Dean’s cheek, so low it was barely above a breath. The tail end of the word disappeared into the noise of the room.

Dean shuddered now, goose pimples covering every inch of his skin. He stood up, gestured for Steve and Clint to back off. Both of them reluctantly released Sam and moved away, staying close in case of a replay. Dean took Sam’s hand in his. He gripped it tightly and pressed his thumb into the center of his palm.

“Sam, stone number one,” Dean said his voice cracking, leaning towards Sam again as he pressed the palm deeply with his thumb. Sam shook for a moment, turning his head toward his brother. “I’m right here, Sammy. Stone number one.” His voice was stronger now. His brother’s eyelids fluttered opened again for only a moment, blurry, unfocused, but no longer rolling and the thrashing had stopped completely. Dean continued to press that spot and murmur to Sam comfortingly. Sam moved into quiet whimpers as he struggled to hold onto Dean’s hand in his.

The sweaty man in the bed quieted, his eyes slipping closed again, his voice becoming a moaning sigh, as he once again, became still, only his chest moving, heaving from the exertion. Dean froze.

“Sam?” he searched Sam’s face as he said it. 

Bruce shooed Clint and Steve further away, checking the man’s vitals and reconnecting several of the monitoring cables that had come loose. The alarms stopped wailing and returned to the desired soft beeps.

“He’s okay now,” Bruce told Dean, who gusted out a stuttering breath and stood up straighter, hands still holding his brother’s. “It was a bad reaction to the first pain medicine I gave him. I made the wrong choice. I am so sorry.” Dean looked over at him. “Radiation exposure causes a lot of tissue damage. Most victims who recover have to be under pain management for a long time to deal with it. It’s like a burn victim but all the damage is internal instead of external. While he was in a coma, he didn’t feel any of it. But once he started to wake up, he could feel every dying cell, every scraped nerve ending.” Bruce explained to Dean, who was nodding in acceptance. “He had a bad reaction to the first one but this one seems to have done the trick. He only managed to pull some of the monitoring leads, not the IV, feeding tube, or catheter, so he’s okay.” 

“God, that was way too early to expect that.” Tony said, running a hand over his hair, his chest still heaving from the excitement. “And I saw how he bucked you guys like you were barely there. He should have been weak as a kitten.”

Steve watched Dean, having the same thoughts. He thought about what he had observed in the interaction between the brothers.

“Neither of you have service records,” Steve said pointedly. “But you reacted like it was PTSD and he responded.” 

Dean gulped air and kept his eyes on Sam.

“Yeah,” Dean said sadly, “No actual military service, but we both did our stints.”

“Where?” Steve had to ask. 

“Hell,” Dean said, the single word dropping like a lead weight into an empty aluminum bucket. 

“Straight answers,” Steve said severely. Dean raised his darkened eyes up to Steve.

“Straight answer. Hell. The real Hell, not a proverbial one. I spent 40 years there after I sold my soul to bring Sam back from the dead the first time. Sam, he, um….,” Dean stuttered and struggled to collect himself, “His stay was a lot longer, around 180 years. He sacrificed himself to save the world by trapping Lucifer, the source of all evil, and his brother, Michael, the king dick, in the Cage in Hell with him. And both of them were very, very angry with Sam.” Dean swallowed thickly. “He hasn’t been the same since he was brought back.” His eyes never left Sam’s face. 

Steve was astounded because there was no possible way that Dean was telling the truth, yet his eyes were so haunted and sad, so honest and open that he could find no lie in his statement. Around the room, the other Avengers looked at each other, not sure what to believe, but definitely having witnessed some defining moment between them.

Bruce fell back onto his stool, shakily taking up the tablet again for more calculations, and to update the notes with the medicines and the reactions. Clint put his arm around Natasha’s waist, hers around his, them leaning into each other, both looking mildly shell shocked.

Tony, however, was trying to focus his mind again. It was back. Like he should know this. This was important and he knew these men. But from where? What was it?

Dean released Sam’s hand reluctantly, but he needed to sit down before he fell down. He wobbled his way to the chair had dragged over earlier and sat down hard, folding into himself a little, shoulders trembling. Clint noticed Dean’s bloody nose and insisted on looking at it.

“It ain’t broken,” Dean told him, accepting the tissues to wipe away the blood.

“Hit in the face that often, huh?” Tony asked.

“Often enough,” Dean replied.

“Bruce, what’s his status?” Steve asked. Tony was conferring with Bruce quietly on the readouts and notes. 

“Um, he’s technically sedated for now. I’ll set up the IV to keep him sedated until the next treatment dose. We’ll continue to monitor him. As for the treatment, I went ahead and completed the second dose. As I said, each dose will be every 9-10 hours. This should give him a little time to heal while he’s sedated. His vitals are climbing, so I think he’s on his way to recovery. We’ll eventually drop the sedation far enough for him to wake up enough to gauge his pain tolerance levels. We need administer an appropriate dosage to spare him most of the pain, but we’d like to step down the dosage eventually and have him wake up completely.” Bruce shrugged. “But since we don’t know how much pain he’ll be in at that time, it may be a long time before we get to that point.”

Steve ran his hands over his own face, thinking to himself.

“I’ll check in with Director Fury,” he finally said. “See if there’s information in SHIELD’s records that wasn’t in the records we already pulled. Clint, you’re on watch here. Natasha, see if you can provide some breakfast for the prisoner. Tony, Bruce, let us know if anything changes or we’re needed.” 

Tony and Bruce noted the vitals before heading up to the lab to do more calculations and research on the treatment, painkillers, and the reactions.

Steve pulled Dean up gently, leading him to his cell, uncuffing him. He paced the room, letting out the tension from earlier as the door sealed. Natasha walked with Steve, riding up on the elevator to the common kitchen.

Clint walked around the infirmary bed, looking down at the very still man. He shook his head before sitting back in the chair and throwing his feet up onto the bed. 

****

Clint had been sitting there for only a few minutes before Natasha dropped off scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast for them both. She took in the room and its occupants, sharing a silent word or two with Clint before going to meet Steve to see what Fury might have. The older, untouched casserole and salad had been tossed once breakfast was delivered, both Clint and Dean tucking in immediately. Dean nodded at Clint when he came over to lean against the viewing window. The archer noted the questioning look on the man’s face, so he went to the microphone and keyed it open. 

“He’s doing fine.” Clint told him. Dean’s body relaxed minutely. “Still sedated and next treatment coming up soon. Looks like he’s resting well.”

“Thanks, man,” Dean said, getting up to stretch and move around. As he walked, he kept glancing at Sam’s monitors. “Can I ask you a question?” Clint’s eyebrow went up.

“Sure, but I don’t guarantee an answer.” Clint gestured for him to continue. There was no preamble, as if Dean had been thinking about his question for a while.

“I saw the bow and arrows earlier. They’re a little long range for my close up take down. Why carry them inside?” Clint barked a laugh.

“Better to have them and not need them, than need them and not have them.”

“But you don’t have them now.” Dean had noticed them absent ever since he’d first been put into the cell. Clint shrugged.

“You didn’t put up any resistance, one of your first questions was about your brother, and from what I’ve seen, as long as he’s not out of the woods completely, you’re not going to go Hannibal Lector on us. I kinda figured that you wouldn’t really be someone I’d have to chase down with a long-range weapon any time soon.” Dean nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Everything I saw about you says it’s your preferred weapon and that you’re damn good with it.” Clint nodded, leaning on the wall next to the speaker. “But you carry guns too. Are you just as good with those?”

“Just about. But depending on the bow and arrowhead, and shaft selection, I can get a lot more distance and accuracy in almost any kind of environment. I can do pretty well with a sniper rifle, but it just doesn’t feel the same to me.” 

“Huh. Cool, man.” Dean flopped back on the bed, then straightened back up. “Another question.”

“Yeah?” Clint replied. Dean was eyeing the glass cubicle in the back corner.

“I’ve been in jail cells before and I’m not ashamed to go in front of other guys, but if Agent Romanoff comes in, one of us might get really embarrassed.” Dean smirked. “But why put up walls at all if you’re just gonna watch?” Clint laughed out loud, feeling some tension from the day releasing.

“Uh, just ask Jarvis to give you privacy,” he chuckled. Dean’s eyebrow went up and he stood up and went to the door of the cubicle and opened it.

“Uh, Jarvis? Can I get some privacy?” Clint shook his head with another chuckle.

“Certainly, sir,” the british voice intoned. The cubicle walls changed to frosted immediately. Both of Dean’s eyebrows went up into his hairline in surprise and he stepped inside, pulling the door closed behind him. Just the faint shadow of Dean appeared on the frost, so faint Clint couldn’t really say if he was standing or sitting at any given time.

“Okay then, thank you,” Clint heard the man say quietly before the sound cut out, most likely cut by Jarvis so no one else could hear any sounds the man made. A few minutes later, Dean came out and the walls became clear glass once again. He went to the sink to wash his hands.

“Glad I asked,” Dean said over his shoulder, realizing Clint was still standing there, probably listening to him.

“Actually, Jarvis would have automatically frosted it if you went inside and shut the door,” Clint smirked. Dean huffed over his shoulder as he turned off the water to dry his hands. He finished and went back to the cot to sit, leaning against the headboard. He’d slept a lot more last night than he had for days. 

Clint had closed the mic’s feed into the cell and was still leaning there when Bruce and Tony came back in, discussing formulas and chemical reactions. They barely acknowledged the archer, so deep into their discussion were they. Once a lull in their conversation happened, Tony looked up, realizing how quiet the room really was, with only the slow breaths of the patient and soft beeping of the monitors.

“Jarvis, put on my ‘Contemplative Research’ playlist, low volume.” Tony looked up until classic rock and roll began to play softly in the room. It was loud enough to catch the song and sing along, but quiet enough to not disturb any discussions. It also played in Dean’s cell, where he looked up with surprise and smiled softly.

Tony then went to a side station and pulled up some other project up on the monitor. He was working away, barely noticing Bruce reviewing the feeds from the monitors behind him. Steve arrived shortly after. He nodded to Clint and then stepped up to Bruce. 

“How’s he doing?” Steve asked. The doctor glanced up from his project at the monitors, then at the sleeping man, before returning to his screen.

“Vitals are up getting stronger,” He said absently. “No more negative reactions. Jarvis is monitoring, so he’ll let us when he starts waking up again. Second dose was administered.”

Steve nodded and turned to Clint.

“Report.” Steve listened as Clint reported that nothing noteworthy had happened, just the passing of time. Steve accepted the information with a soft grunt, then told the archer that he was waiting for Fury to contact him as he had been in with the Council. He went back out to get the Starkpad he had left in his room so he could share some intel with the agent that Hill had forwarded.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Tony glared at Bruce’s back before turning to Clint.

“You know, he never asks me for a report. He’ll ask you and Natasha. Hell, he even just asked Bruce, but he never asks me. Why do you think that is?” Clint laughed.

“For the same reason he doesn’t ask Thor. Well, not the exact same reason.” Tony’s face scrunched up but when he looked at Clint for clarification, he just laughed harder. “Tony, you don’t report, you obfuscate.” Tony’s eyebrows went up and he leaned back with a smile. Bruce smirked without raising his eyes from the tablet he was scrolling through. “What? I know big words. You talk around the subject instead of about it. And Thor regales everyone with every minute detail like a Homeric epic. Nat and I have been trained to give detailed, but succinct reports, with all the pertinent information, without all the falderal. And Bruce is a doctor. He’s used to giving it to people straight every time.” 

“Bruce gives it to them straight, huh?” Tony smirked, waggling his eyebrows. “Bruce, you old dog.” Bruce blushed but shook his head with a smile. Clint smiled fondly and shook his head, pointing an accusing finger at his friend.

“And that’s another reason why he doesn’t ask you.” Tony chuckled as Steve returned with the tablet in his hands.

“Clint, take a break. I’ve got this covered. I’ve forwarded what Hill sent me to you and Natasha.” Steve stood next to the hospital bed as Tony waved his hands dismissively towards Clint.

“Yes, fly away, Hawk. Go play grabass with sexy spy girl. Whatever works.” Clint smirked. Steve chided Tony.

“I should tell Nat you said that.” Tony blanched and looked at Clint as he detoured over to Tony’s stool.

“No, you shouldn’t.” Tony pulled back from Clint’s approach. Clint laughed, clapping him very slowly on the back before heading to the door.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you before about talking like that about her,” Clint chuckled, doing a finger gun at Tony before the door closed behind him. He headed down to the kitchen for some breakfast with Nat.

He found her in the communal kitchen with her Stark pad out, rereading the entire criminal records of Sam and Dean Winchester, while waiting for the SHIELD information to finish loading. She was trying to look at the information with fresh eyes, not sure why. She and Clint had both met psychotic serial killers and Dean really was nothing like they expected. Sam, they had no way to evaluate yet, but Dean was an enigma. She had already reread the report given by a police detective who had stated the men had helped her solve a case involving her murderous partner, then saved her from said partner, all while in custody, before they had escaped. The evidence did not point to being planted by Dean and/or Sam so she had to take the officer’s report as given. 

Her eyes flickered up from the tablet to the elevator when Clint walked in. Tasha had a soft side that most people never got to see but Clint had noticed her gentle glances at the ill brother and the concentrated confusion she had viewed Dean with. Clint looked over to where she had been scrolling through the mugshots and reports before he spoke.

“Clint.” She could tell by his thoughtful expression that he was as rested as he usually was. He leaned on the counter by the coffeepot, reaching for a mug.

“Nat,” he greeted her. She waited quietly. Once he had his first cup of coffee in him and had poured a second, he finally looked down at her and nodded. She laid the tablet on the island where she sat.

“Any new thoughts?” He asked her, watching her face as she decided on how to answer that. Natasha was the one person he knew would never give him an opinion unless it was well founded and never biased. Steve had excellent gut instincts and his opinions were valued as well, but not as much as Natasha’s. 

“Did you see this report from SHIELD?” she finally said. He shook his head no and said nothing for a moment before hopping up on the counter, leaning back against the cabinet, and threading his hands behind his lower back as he stretched with his eyes closed, appearing instantly relaxed. She knew he was a little stiff and very tired but wasn’t willing to rest yet.

“Well,” she said with a furrowed forehead as she skimmed it again, “SHIELD pretty much has the same information on Sam and Dean that we already pulled. There’s a note in here marked ‘private’ from Fury that comments about ‘global destruction’, ‘hunters’, and ‘must be allowed to continue unhindered’.” Both their eyebrows went up at that.

“Hunters…” Clint muttered. “That’s what Dean said on the jet.” Nat nodded.

“Yes, so I’m guessing that’s integral to the next part of the investigation until Fury contacts Steve. It’s those other two that worry me.”

“Why are they not supposed to be hindered?” Clint asked. “And how are they connected with ‘global destruction’?”

“I guess we find out once Steve hears from Fury.” Clint nodded and closed his eyes again, flexing his arms out to his side.

Natasha got up, lightly slapped his elbow, making him open one eye and smile at her, before dragging him up to follow her out of the room.

*****

“Clint, Natasha, head over and pick up their car,” Steve said. “Take the Quinjet to get the larger cargo jet at the airport. It’ll be faster than just driving it back.” He looked at Dean through the window. Steve keyed the mic open. “Time to get your car.”

“You have the keys and it’s a ’67 Chevy Impala, black,” Dean told them from his cell. Tony looked around and smiled.

“Nice car.” Tony said. Dean nodded with a smug smile.

“Third floor of the parking garage. Take that silver blade in my duffel,” Dean told them. “It’s the only thing that can kill an angel. Believe me, you may not believe in angels, but they’ll kill you before you can say amen.” Clint and Natasha shared a look. 

“It’s 10 minutes in the Quinjet to the airport and another 40 minutes in the cargo jet each way,” Tony informed them, still tapping away on his tablet. “I just sent in the flight plans and request to have it ready when you get there. One of you will have to stay with the jet, the other will have to drive the car from the airport once you return the cargo jet.”

They nodded, putting the comms into their ears before heading out, Clint giving a two-finger salute.

On the flight over to the airport, Natasha and Clint had debated on who would fly the cargo jet and drive the car back. Flying the Quinjet to Randolph was about 20 minutes each way. The cargo jet was slower, but they’d have to drop it at the closest airport, then land the Quinjet on the helipad at the hospital, leaving one of them to drive the car to the cargo jet, get it loaded, fly back to NYC and then drive the car from the airport to the Avengers Tower. All told, it was looking like the longest section would take around two hours total. If they were just flying over in the Quinjet and then driving the car with no cargo jet, it would easily be 5 and a half hours or more. Clint really wanted to drive the classic muscle car and finally won out, having pouted until Natasha relented. 

Nat dropped Clint at Stark’s private runway to pick up the cargo jet, then flew to the designated airport near Randolph to wait for Clint to arrive. She picked him up and they headed to the helipad at the hospital. They radioed ahead to make sure the helipad was clear so they could land just in case a medical transport was incoming or outbound. It turned out to be clear for now and they were assured there would be at least a 15-minute notice if the spot was needed for emergency flights.

Clint and Natasha had also brought the Angel Blade, taking turns hefting it and swinging it like a sword. Natasha was impressed with the metal, something that she couldn’t exactly identify, but Clint was impressed with the balance and sharpness of the blade, even though it appeared to be dull. As Clint would be driving the car, he would bring the blade with him. He carried it down the stairwell in his hand, held slightly behind his leg so that it wasn’t immediately noticeable. 

Once they arrived at the parking garage and located the Impala, they surveilled the area first from a distance. They both picked up on two suspicious characters lingering in the area, watching the car. They strategized and ended up with Natasha as a distraction, to lead them away, while Clint would jump in the car and take off for the airport. It didn’t quite go as planned, as only one of them chased Nat. The other stayed with the car but was looking the wrong way when Clint opened the door to slide inside. The car looked in great condition, obviously not a show car. It was used daily and well taken care of, but the door creaked loudly when he pulled it open.

The supposed angel turned and ran towards the Impala while he was plunging the key into the ignition. It turned over easily and he smiled to hear that engine roar to life. Clint had barely backed out of the slot when the burly man attacked the car, flinging himself at the trunk. The body thumped loudly and there was a metal shriek. Clint glanced back as he threw it into drive. The attacker had one of those silver blades embedded in the trunk and was using that to haul himself up. Clint slammed on the gas, feeling the horsepower pour through the car, and it plunged forward. 

He took the turns inside the parking garage like a rally car driver, barely missing some civilians, but not hitting anyone. On one of the final turns before he hit the city traffic, the hanger-on slid off, leaving the blade impaled in the trunk. Clint laughed and tapped his com to report to Nat. She had lost her tail and was in the air in the jet, already heading back to NYC and the Tower. Clint told her he’d see her there in about an hour or so and signed off. 

****

Forty-seven minutes later, Clint was pulling into Tony’s private garage in the base of the Avenger’s Tower. Natasha waiting for him with $20 dangling from one hand. He pulled up beside her with his arm out of the window and plucked it from her, grinning. Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Have fun?” She asked with a fond smile. He only smiled bigger and slid off of the buttery leather seat.

“So much fun! This is the car meant for a summer road trip. They still have a cassette deck in here and cassettes of 80’s hard rock. It wasn’t country but it was nearly heaven.”

She patted his back and turned to begin the inspection of the car. There were a handful of extra cell phones in the glove box along with the cassette tapes and some registration papers that were in false names, nothing under the seats. Dean kept his car in running order and pretty damn clean. Natasha noted a few old lego bricks caught in the dashboard vents. Clint found the little green army man tucked into the ashtray in the backdoor but left him where he was.

They met at the trunk, eyeing the angel blade still sticking out of it.

“You drove here with that there?” Natasha asked him with a raised eyebrow. He grinned before reaching for it. It didn’t budge. He pulled harder. Still didn’t move. “Just open the trunk and bump it from there. It’ll pop out.”

Clint gave her a look and turned the key in the trunk lock. Both of them looked down as the trunk lid opened. Both of them blinked, then Clint pushed the trunk lid down halfway. They turned and looked at each other with equally shocked expressions before Natasha reached down and pulled the lid back up. They looked back down.

A middle-aged man in a tailored, black business suit lay there, staring up at them. His hands were cuffed with dull silver cuffs that appeared to have symbols etched into them. His feet were bound by duct tape as well as his mouth. The man looked up at them, raising one hand and giving them a little wave. 

They both just looked down at him, frowning. Clint’s head tilted as he took it in. They both finally looked at the inside of the trunk lid, seeing the occult symbol painted there. They took in other items around the man and then looked at each other again. The man did not look to be in distress. In fact, he looked bored. Clint opened his mouth to say something, then stopped, his eyebrows going up. He shut his mouth and turned to Nat.

“I got nothing,” he finally said to her. She looked at him for a moment before reaching to close the trunk again, pulling the key out.

They both took a step back from the trunk to regroup.

“Huh,” Clint said.

“Yeah,” Nat agreed. She reached up to key her comm. “Jarvis, can you ask Steve to bring Dean to the secure garage please?” When he agreed, she turned to Clint and sighed.

*****

Before bringing Dean down to Natasha and Clint, he had asked Bruce for an update. Having gotten a good night of rest, in spite of being anxious for the patient’s wellbeing, he was looking more alert. He had reviewed the readouts on the monitors and declared that Sam would probably being waking up within a few hours. He had pulled back on the painkiller/sedative so he could come around enough for them to determine his pain tolerance and self-reported health. Dean was assured that they would bring him back up before Sam awoke again.

A short time had passed when the elevator door dinged and out stepped Dean, again handcuffed, this time in front of him, with Steve behind and slightly to the left of him. Dean beamed as soon as he saw his car and walked a little quicker.

“Aww, Baby,” he crooned as he stroked the side panel and hood. “I’m so glad to see you.”

Steve watched Natasha quirk her eyebrow and Clint smirk. When they turned to look at him, their expressions both shuttered down to be very blank, something he had seen them do when there was something upsetting or that they just weren’t sure how to handle.

“Clint, Tasha,” he said, grabbing Dean’s elbow to propel him towards where they stood near the trunk. Dean still had his eyes on his car. When he saw the blade stabbed through the trunk, his face fell.

“Aww, Baby, what did they do to you?”

“What’s going on?” They exchanged a look before Natasha stepped forward, unlocking the trunk. She lifted it up and stepped back. Steve looked down, seeing what had them so unsettled. He immediately felt confused. He had finally heard from Fury, who had passed along some incredible information, but ultimately left the final outcome up to Steve and his team. Steve had almost felt lenient towards these Winchester brothers after the new information, but this. It was kidnapping and imprisonment. He looked over at Dean, who was staring down at the bound man with a smug smile.

“Hey, bitch,” Dean nearly purred. He was still smiling when he looked up and met Steve’s angry face. His smile fell and he faltered. “No, wait. This guy is a demon.”

“Is this why you didn’t want them to open the trunk?” Steve ground out from gritted teeth.

“Partly. I didn’t want the fucker to escape.” Dean said. They all gave a surprised look at that. Clint snorted.

“Did you seriously leave someone locked in your trunk,” Clint asked, “in a hospital parking garage…for two days? And then ask us to retrieve said prisoner as proof of angels and demons?”

“Yep,” Dean smiled, “and I know you don’t trust me, but this bastard deserves every second of being left in that trunk. I wish the weather had been hotter. Make him sweat a little.” Steve reached down and ripped the tape from Crowley’s mouth. He made a noise of pain from the sudden removal and then moved his jaw around as Clint reached in, cut the duct tape around his ankles and helped him up out of the trunk.

“Sorry, Squirrel,” Crowley grumbled. “I don’t sweat. Hello, King of Hell?” He was happy they couldn’t see the fine sheen of sweat at the back of his neck.

All three of the Avengers stared, mouths open. Steve’s anger dissipated, leaving only the confusion.

Crowley looked over at all three of them, eyeing them up and down. 

“Well, helloooo,” He waggled his eyebrows lasciviously at Clint’s chest and arms in his sleeveless t-shirt, who raised one eyebrow but didn’t flinch. Then he smiled broadly when Natasha stepped protectively in front of him. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Crowley purred at the beautiful redhead, “I swing both ways. Plenty to go around.” Now Nat snorted as Steve’s mouth dropped in horror.

“Just save it, dick,” Dean said, making Crowley look over at him, then down at his wrists.

“Twinsies.”

“Fuck off, Crowley,” Dean growled. 

“Excuse me,” Steve finally said. “Let’s take this upstairs. Natasha, finish your search and report once you’re done securing it all. Clint, you’re with me.” Nat nodded, happy to let the guys take both men with him.

“Hey, don’t open any boxes with occult symbols on them,” Dean said over his shoulder. “I think I still had a few cursed items I hadn’t locked away in the bunker yet. Just don’t do it.” Nat shook her head and dove back into the trunk, lifting up the panel Crowley had laid upon.

Steve and Clint had just gotten Dean and Crowley into the elevator and turned around when they saw Natasha’s head pop around the trunk and stare at Dean with awe. Steve shook his head. One thing at a time.

*****

In the elevator, Crowley asked about ‘Moose’. Dean had growled at him angrily that he’d let him near Sam over his dead body. Steve and Clint blinked in surprise when Jarvis spoke into their ear comms that the ID scan done of the man calling himself Crowley came back empty. There was no record for this face and approximate age combination, nor the name and face combination.

Nat had reported, also via ear comm, on the vast array of weapons she found under the trunk panel, including fake IDs for different agencies, more burner phones, guns, knives of all sorts, herbs, books on magic and legends, and even a damn grenade launcher. Clint and Steve exchanged glances about just how “psychotic” these boys really were.

When Jarvis alerted them, again via the comm, that Sam was once again waking up, Steve let Dean know. Crowley immediately smiled and asked to see the Moose. He told Dean with a smirk that if his damn brother was going to make him have feelings, then he felt it was his duty to check on the poor man he had connected with. Clint and Steve blinked at that.

“No way in Hell!” Dean demanded. “Keep this son of a bitch away from Sam.” Using sign language behind their backs, Clint told Steve that he wanted to see Crowley’s reaction to the patient to better judge the prisoner versus captive. Steve reluctantly agreed.

“I think you’re in no position to be making demands, Dean,” Steve had said gently. When Dean had begun to go red in the face in anger, Steve stopped him. “We’ll leave the cuffs on him for now, and Clint and I will be there to keep anything untoward from happening, but we have only your word on his relationship with Sam.”

“Relationship with Sam?!” Dean yelled. Crowley smiled smugly, while Steve just told Dean to calm down or he’d go right back into his cell. Dean growled but simmered down slowly, glaring at the dapper man. 

“Why do you call him ‘Moose’?” Clint asked the ‘King of Hell’ once it quieted. Crowley just gave him a funny look.

“Seriously? He’s huge!” Clint just shrugged, not mentioning that he’d been prone the entire time. “And, Moose led to Moose and Squirrel.” Crowley pointed at Dean, who rolled his eyes.

“And you’re Boris?” Clint asked with a smirk. Crowley laughed.

“Well, only if I can have Natasha,” Crowley insinuated with waggling eyebrows. Dean tried to punch him, but Steve separated them, huffing. 

“Yeah,” Clint laughed, “I’ll let her tell you ‘no’ herself. Boris and Natasha.” He snort laughed. Steve knew it was just another reference to something that he didn’t understand. 

Once inside the infirmary, Bruce and Tony stared at the new man, having been alerted by Jarvis that he was unidentifiable at the moment. Crowley tried to go over to the bedside, but Dean stayed between him and his brother, not letting him closer than about 10 feet. Sam moaned softly, his eyelids moving as he struggled to wake up.

“Poor Moose,” said Crowley, “Always trying to save the world. Always giving up mind, body and soul for so many ungrateful people. Never quite ends up how you expect, does it?” He sighed deeply before smoothing down the lapels of his suit, picking off some lint. Then he cleared his throat and turned to Tony and Bruce, who had until now, simply stood and watched the short British man.

“Well, hallo! If it isn’t Mr. Tony Stark himself!” he grinned at Tony, who blinked. 

“Do I know you, sir?” Tony said with a small fake smile, trying to not let this handcuffed man know he’s unnerved by being addressed so familiarly.

“No, not as such,” Crowley smirked with narrowed eyes, “However, I certainly know of you. Until not long ago, your name was on the lips of many souls who passed into my realm. Some in sadness, many in anger. Not so many now that Iron Man has appeared. I dare say you’ve done well for yourself,” he said with a gesture like a wave with his cuffed hands to indicate everything around. “It was your father’s deal, mind you, that gave you Stark Industries, but you’ve certainly made it so much more than Howard ever dreamed.” Dean’s eyebrows went up at that bit of information. 

Bruce looked nervously from Tony to the British man, shifting from foot to foot, fingers brushing over the readouts on the tablet in his hands he had just started to go over before Steve brought him in.

Tony tensed, then squinted with a raised eyebrow. “I’m sorry, I still haven’t heard a name in all that.” He honestly wasn’t sure why this man made him afraid. He almost felt that he recognized him but it was eluding him. And the mention of this father and making a deal had him swallowing as a flicker of a memory passed through his gray matter.

Crowley smiled openly before stepping around Sam’s bed towards Tony with one hand extended.

“Indeed, Mr. Stark. My name is Crowley, King of Hell, and current prisoner of Sam and Dean Winchester, the self-appointed heroes of humanity, as it may be.” During the last part of his statement, he rolled his eyes to convey his sarcasm. Tony raised a hand to take Crowley’s, but Bruce stopped him by throwing his arm over Tony’s chest before he could step forward.

“Mmm, no,” Bruce shook his head, not taking his eyes from Crowley. Tony glanced over at Bruce as Crowley smirked and put his hand down. “Tony, tell me this guy isn’t giving you a similar vibe to Loki? Crazy with a side of homicidal.”

Crowley threw back his head and laughed. He pointed at Bruce as he moved further around the room, Steve carefully staying very close to him to pull him back from anything he could grab for.

“You, I like,” he chortled. “Although, Loki’s more an annoying nuisance than homicidal.” His eyes took in all the readouts and he shook his head. “That forced bond Moose and I shared really took a lot out of him, Squirrel. The Boy King is far from out of the woods, I’d say. If you want to burn off that tattoo, I’m happy to get him up and moving again.” Bruce and Tony exchanged a wary look. Dean growled but turned when he thought he heard Sam make another noise.

Sam’s eyelids fluttered open. Dean leaned over and touched Sam’s arm.

“Sammy?” he said softly. All eyes were now on Sam and Dean, except Clint’s. They were watching Crowley very closely, very unnerved by Bruce’s accurate description of him. “I’m here, Sam.”

“Dean?” Sam croaked, turning his eyes in the sound of Dean’s voice, eyes beginning to blink slowly, barely open at all. Crowley was watching their interaction thoughtfully, Clint seeing the cunning and devious mind in the look.

“Yeah,” Dean said with a smile, so relieved he almost teared up again. “I got ya, little brother.”

Sam finally raised his eyelids, not quite half mast, his hazel eyes slowly clearing as he saw his big brother next to him. He tried to raise a hand to touch Dean but felt something holding them down. He frowned and looked down at his wrists.

“Wha…what’s going on?” Sam asked softly, wincing as though in pain. 

“Um, Sammy. It’s okay. It was the only way to save you.” Dean said quickly, raising his cuffed hands to touch Sam’s cheek. His brother caught sight of the handcuffs and frowned sadly.

“No, Dean, you didn’t, not for me…,” Sam began to protest as he realized the implications of them both being restrained, laying his head back again and with a groan, moving his body around to alleviate the ache that was building.

“Yes, for you, little brother. And stop complaining. You don’t even know who it was who saved you.”

With this Sam looked confused and tried to look around, having a hard time seeing all the people around him. He blinked but still, everything was fuzzy, it being hard to concentrate when it hurt so much. He flinched when he blearily recognized Crowley, who smiled darkly and sketched a light wave. 

His breathing was speeding up, the monitors registering his faster heartrate. He forced his eyes away to continue looking around the room. One of the figures, the shorter one with glasses, came closer. He almost recognized the face.

“Sam,” the man addressed him, pulling all his attention. “How are you feeling?” Sam’s breathing settled a little and he blinked slower, already feeling sleep pulling him down again.

“Tired, raw, achy,” he slurred in reply. “Like I’ve been flattened by a building on fire.” 

“Or Abaddon,” Crowley muttered. Dean flashed him a short glare when Sam cringed. Bruce looked down and touched something on his tablet. Sam’s eyes closed and he sank back down, grimacing as if he had tasted something horrible. Clint didn’t know who or what Abaddon was but could relate to the squished under a building feeling. Dean looked at Bruce with concern.

“It’s fine,” Bruce said, checking Sam’s vitals. “With everything he’s been through, he’s bound to be very tired. I think he tried to hide it but you could see he was hurting. I’ve turned the painkillers and sedation back up until the next dose in a few hours. Don’t be surprised if it’s only short bursts like this for a while when he wakes up.” Sam was already sound asleep again. Dean relaxed.

“Well, kudos to you, Dr. Banner,” Crowley spoke up. “Save the cheerleader. Save the world. Blah, blah, blah!” Dean rounded on him.

“Shut it!” he said forcefully. He turned to Steve. “Can you please get him away from my brother? Lock me up with him I you have to, just as long as he’s not in the same room with Sam anymore.” Steve nodded at Clint, who started towards Crowley.

“Roommates?” Crowley crowed. “Ah, Squirrel, you do love me.” Dean rolled his eyes. Clint grabbed the dapper, cuffed man and led him out and down to the detention cells on a lower floor. Steve took Dean’s arm.

“We only have the one holding cell on this level,” Steve said. “You can stay here with your brother and he’ll be down in the detention area. Sam appears to be doing better, and as long as you don’t give us any problems, you’ll be able to remain on this level with your brother.” Dean immediately held up his cuffed hands.

“I swear on my brother’s life,” he said quickly, “I will be a quiet little mouse and let you do your thing.”

Steve nodded at that, glancing over to make sure Tony and Bruce were okay with it. They shrugged.

“Fine,” Steve finally conceded. “But one wrong move, and we have other cells on that level, demon or not.”

“Not a peep,” Dean said, moving back to the containment room. Steve removed the cuffs and leaned against the wall where he could watch the room.

“Great,” Tony said as he got up. “I’ll check in with Pepper. She’s not due back for another week but I want her away from here until these two and the threat are gone.”

“That’s a good idea, Tony,” Steve said, watching the prisoner lean back on the bed, back against the wall, hands threaded behind his head. The man’s eyes stared at the ceiling, forehead furrowed in concentration. On what, Steve didn’t know.

*****

Crowley turned out to not be as model a prisoner as Dean. He quickly grew bored, complaining loudly. He alternated between flopping around a bit on the bed and pacing the cell, often loudly singing songs from the musical, ‘Wicked.’ He tried to engage Clint in banter and then tried again with Natasha when she showed up shortly after securing everything she had found in the trunk. Neither would engage him and he was becoming rude and petulant like a child. 

When Natasha and Clint ignored him again, the dapper demon sat up in the bed and stared at them through the glass.

“Well, bugger me!” he growled. “Do you know this room is duller than Moose on a Friday night?”

Clint rolled his eyes. They heard Crowley begin to curse and yell because no one was paying attention to him. He was nearly apoplectic when they heard a sizzling sound. They stared in surprise as the engraved handcuffs began to glow as though heated. The supposed demon grunted and pulled at the cuffs. They warped and twisted, before snapping and falling to the floor. He gave a wicked smile and a small wave.

“Tell Moose and Squirrel I’ll be seeing them,” he growled as he threw a sarcastic wave and blinked out of existence. 

“What the hell?!” Clint yelled. They raced into the cell, only finding the melted, twisted remains of the cuffs. Jarvis reported that the prisoner was no longer in the Tower. 

“Jarvis, alert the others that the prisoner has escaped. Tell Tony and Bruce to stay in the infirmary with Sam and Dean,” Natasha yelled as they raced from the room.

As soon as Jarvis had relayed the message, Steve raced to meet Clint and Tasha and Tony began questioning his AI about what he meant about him no longer being there, as in not in the building or just not in the room, when did he disappear, did he have video? 

“Mr. Crowley broke the handcuffs approximately 5 minutes ago,” Jarvis replied and then played the video on the one of the monitors. “There is no trace of him anywhere my sensors are. And yes, I’ve run diagnostics, they are all functioning properly.”

“Damn it,” Dean swore from inside the cell. They were leaving the mic open now so he could hear anything they said about Sam’s progress. “I knew I should have insisted on a Devil’s trap.” Tony asked him to explain and he told him about the magic drawings that trapped demons. Tony, ever skeptical, scoffed about how much he believed that would have helped. 

They met up at the elevator. Clint and Nat took the upper floors, while Steve headed down. They kept in constant contact via Jarvis, but the search was fruitless. They had Jarvis enact some stricter protocols in case he showed up again and headed back to up the infirmary.

Once they got there, they had seen Dean drawing on the glass monitor with his finger as Jarvis had turned it into a whiteboard for him at Tony’s request. He had drawn a devil’s trap. He told him to have one put over every entrance that opened, like doors, elevators, and any windows that opened. At first Tony rolled his eyes, but Clint and Natasha explained that a similar drawing had been on the inside of the Impala’s trunk lid and it had apparently kept Crowley there for several days, trapping him. Steve suggested it couldn’t hurt, so Tony had Jarvis set about getting the robots painting this magic ward as suggested.

“I’d also put up some angel warding to keep them out.” Dean quickly drew a few sigils that would prevent the angels from getting into the Tower. “These don’t need to be on all the openings, just one each of the four outer walls.” Tony scoffed but told Jarvis to proceed.

“How’d Crowley disappear into nothing like that?” Natasha asked, once they were all situated around the room. 

“He’s a powerful demon,” Dean said from his room. “The cuffs were only meant to weaken his power for a short period until we could get him into a trap where he could be held by stronger magic. The key of Solomon is the ideal sigil for that. That’s what we had him in at the church during the third trial. When I stopped Sam, I popped Crowley in the trunk in case we still needed him. Trunk has a key of Solomon on the inside. Devil’s trap would suffice for a while, but since he had neither one holding him here in the tower, he broke the cuffs and poofed away.” They had wondered at the melted, twisted remains of the cuffs recovered from the cell. It was the video of him vanishing into thin air that was the biggest of the surprises though.

“Since you’re doing the warding here with a devil’s trap at all the portals,” Dean said with approval, “he won’t be able to get back in without help. And since Sam’s getting better, he’ll most likely avoid anywhere he and I are for a very long time. He won’t risk Sam catching him again.” Dean smirked at Sam, who was still sleeping.

“What was your plan for him?” Steve asked. Dean smirked.

“Not sure, really. He’s the ‘King of Hell’. We’ve tried to kill him lots of times before, but it never took. I’m still pretty sure he knows how to get to Metatron and get the gates of Heaven open again so the angel dicks will go away.”

“Why did he call Sam the ‘Boy King’?” Dean leaned back and closed his eyes. 

“Sammy was part of Hell’s plan to free Lucifer and destroy humanity.” They all stared at him. “As Lucifer’s vessel, he was supposed to be taken when he was still young, to rule over Hell and Earth. We thwarted those plans a few years ago, but the demons still talk like he’s the heir to the throne in Hell. If you really knew Sam, you’d know he’s the absolute last person who’d accept being King of Hell.” 

Steve sank down onto the stool vacated by Tony, listening to Sam’s soft breathing. It had been a long few days and he was sure there was so much more to the story than they knew. Or else they were just being drawn into the crazy delusions of two psychotic serial killers.


	5. The Avengers Are Informed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor returns, Fury has shocking information, and the Winchester Gospels

Bruce had administered the third treatment dose just before Tony ordered out for dinner as they were all too occupied to prepare a communal meal. The Indian food was delivered by Dummy when there was a crash of thunder and flash of lightning outside the Tower. 

“Sirs, Thor has returned,” Jarvis stated before the lighting had dissipated, “I believe he is heading to the infirmary now.”

“Bruce,” Thor roared as he stepped into the Infirmary, “Heimdall was correct. It was a matter of perspective. These men are not as these FBI claim them to be.” Everyone had come upon his return and was staring at him now. Dean was still seated but staring at Thor too from the containment room.

“What has happened in my absence? I feel magic here. Am I too late? Is Samuel Winchester alive still?” He stepped further in and saw Sam in the bed, chest still rising and falling. He took a deep breath in relief. “Then I am in time. Did the treatment you created not work?” He looked at Bruce.

Bruce swallowed slowly before answering.

“Yes, it’s working, Thor,” he said, “But it’s not an instant cure. Sam is getting better. He just woke up this morning but the damage to his body is extremely painful, so it’ll be a while before he’s fully aware.”

“This is good that he will awaken,” Thor said, “We continue our mission to save Samuel Winchester and assist his warrior brother.” Thor smiled openly at Dean, who couldn’t help but offer a half smile back because Thor’s enthusiasm and optimism were damned contagious, not to mention Thor seemed to be on their side.

“Heimdall also said that the son of Stark has the true records of the Winchester brothers in his great library.” Thor beamed at Tony, who stared at him.

“Uh, no I don’t.” Tony replied as all eyes turned to look at him, even Dean. 

“Yes,” nodded Thor, “They are the Winchester Gospels, tales of the supernatural, scribed by the great prophet, Carver of Edlund.” The others looked again between Thor and Tony. Tony’s face smoothed in shock at the exact same time as Dean dropped his head into his hands, both in recognition.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean moaned into his hands. Everyone’s eyes were drawn to him in question. Seconds later, Tony spoke.

“Son of a bitch,” Tony said gustily as he turned and stalked out of the room. Their eyes swiveled to where Tony had disappeared. 

Clint, Nat, and Thor chased after Tony. Dean didn’t move; neither did Steve or Bruce. Bruce was hesitant to leave his patient again and Steve felt the need to stay on his guard with the older brother. Even then, only Steve heard Dean’s next rough comment.

“Chuck, wherever you are, you better hope you are dead. You and your damned Mistress Magda.” Steve blinked but said nothing.

*****

Ten minutes later, Tony came flying back into the room, holding a few paperback books in each hand. He stalked over to the viewing window into the cell and shook them at him. Even though he was behind thick glass, Dean flinched back in irritation, eyeing the books with hatred.

“I knew that this was all too familiar,” Tony said angrily. “You two really are psychotic. How fucked up are your own lives that you think it’s a good idea to pretend to be these two, huh?” Steve stepped up and pushed Tony back from the glass. Dean just shook his head and leaned back against the headboard again. 

Clint, Natasha, and Thor trailed in shortly, all holding more paperbacks like Tony’s. Clint had one open and was reading intently. Natasha was reading each back cover in her hands for the summary. And Thor was grinning ear to ear as he looked at the artist renderings of the characters on the covers. All of the covers had shirtless or nearly naked, super muscled men looking dangerous and in different poses with different weapons and backgrounds, and often a 1967 Chevy Impala. 

“Tony, explain.” Steve waited until Tony had paced a bit, flinging his hands up and down, muttering to himself. Tony stopped right in front of Steve and handed him one of the books.

“This, this is the what Thor’s talking about,” Tony ranted. He thumped the book. Steve looked at it. It looked like a lot of different pulp novels he’d seen in stores. “These are the so called ‘Winchester Gospels’. ‘Supernatural’, some crappy pulp fiction nonsense by a guy named Carver Edlund.”

“Fuck it,” Dean grumbled, standing up close to the glass as he pointed at Tony. “Why do you have the books anyway? I didn’t take you for a closet pulp fiction reader.” 

“They’re Peppers,” he replied, tossing one of the books to Bruce. “She got really into them a few years ago and made me find her every one of them in the series. I tried to read one and it was utter bullshit. She still tried to tell me the basic stories and overarching plotlines and I humored her, but again, utter bullshit. How do people keep getting published with this kind of, of…,”

“Bullshit, Tony?” Clint asked without looking up from the page he was reading as Tony seemed to stutter to a halt. Tony glared at him. Clint leaned back against the wall and slid down into a seated position, eyes locked on the page as he continued to read.

“And we’ve lost Clint,” Natasha sighed. She turned over the next book and read the summary. It was ‘Swan Song’. She recognized part of the plot from Dean’s speech earlier.

“According to Cas,” Dean said, sitting back down on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap, “Chuck, who wrote the damn books under a pen name, is a prophet of the Lord and he had this weird, direct line into our lives, which he wrote down as books and then had them published. Sam and I were not happy to hear about that, I can tell you. The sick, twisted shit that Sam and I have been through is not entertainment for the masses.”

Steve stared at him for a moment, then looked around at the others. Clint was engrossed in his book and had a small stack piled at his feet. Thor had sat down next to him, his book held loosely, as he was ready to hear the stories from the source. Bruce looked very tired but shrugged at Steve that he would trust his decision on this. Tony was still pacing, tossing one hand up now and again, throwing glares over his shoulder at Dean occasionally. Natasha was Natasha. She stood there, a few books nestled in the crook of her arm, no emotion on her face, just waiting patiently to see what was expected of her.

“So, you’re saying if we read these in order, we’d have the story of your lives?” Steve asked. Dean slumped down.

“Sadly, yes. But I’m warning you, it ain’t pretty and it ain’t nice. We lived it, but we’d never expect anyone else to have to deal with that crap.”

“I bet there’s a breakdown of the entire series online,” Natasha offered, cocking an eyebrow. “I’ll dig around and see if I can put together a basic summary.”

“Stay away from the fan fiction,” Dean warned with a grimace. “Especially the slash stuff.” He shuddered visibly. Clint snorted from behind his open book. 

“Thank you, Tasha. Bruce, how’s Sam doing?” Steve asked. Bruce relaxed, grateful to Steve for putting him back into his comfort zone. He looked at the readouts, the dosing chart, and then his watch.

“He’s stable, definitely out of the critical stage. His next treatment dose is due in about eight hours. He’ll be out until at least then.” He saw Dean take a slow breath at the information. “Also, I’d like to get an image of Dean’s ribcage. I don’t want to expose Sam to any more radiation if I can avoid it.” Steve nodded at Bruce. 

“Can the chest xray be done here or do you need to take him to the lab?” Bruce shook his head and pulled out a portable, handheld scanner. He had Steve bring Dean out so he could stand with his arms above his head. Steve didn’t bother cuffing him for the brief foray out of the room as all the Avengers were there. Bruce instructed him to take a deep breath and hold it while he scanned it over his chest, front and back. 

Everyone was watching him. Even Clint glanced up over the top of the book he was already pretty far along in. Dean just waited patiently until Bruce was done with him before being locked back in the room. 

“Before the next event, we need to pass along what we learned from Director Fury. Let’s get everyone their meal, then have a semi-private conversation.” Steve eyed Dean pointedly, tapping the mic to the cell to cut the prisoner from listening in. Thor helped Natasha pass out dishes to each person, before they settled around the room. 

For a short while, it was quiet, with only the sounds of eating and appreciative sounds for the food breaking the peace. Then Steve cleared his throat and laid his dish on a cabinet top.

“First off, the initial information Hill sent was pretty much the same as what we already had, with some personal comments from Director Fury such as ‘global destruction’, ‘hunters’, and ‘must remain unhindered’.” Steve noted the confused and startled glances from Bruce and Tony. “When he contacted me, he expanded on those notes and honestly, I’m not sure what to do with the information yet.” He crossed his arms over his chest. 

“According to him, SHIELD is aware of the hunters, blue collar men and women who claim to hunt and stop supernatural creatures. Most of them have had some unnatural deaths in their own personal lives, claiming that these supernatural creatures caused the deaths and that they turned to hunting them in revenge or to work towards the greater good. While SHIELD doesn’t have any proof of these beings, Director Fury conceded that there are a great deal of unexplained things out there that mostly stop being problems when any of these self-acclaimed hunters appear.” Tony thoughtfully questioned Steve.

“How does SHIELD know any of this?”

“They’ve had SHIELD agents in the ranks of hunters in the past. Some have disappeared without a trace, others have been found slaughtered. A few have returned insane. Only two have ever survived intact and they later retired from SHIELD to become full time hunters. Because these hunters are nearly always associated with only small skirmishes and then, are credited with removing problems from the public, SHIELD has left them alone for the most part.”

“So, these guys are telling the truth?” Bruce asked, eyeing the patient and prisoner critically. Thor looked smug but said nothing, knowing his teammates had much more to share.

“Insofar as the available intelligence, most likely,” Steve dropped into a chair. “Sam and Dean Winchester are names that had surprised even Director Fury. Seems from what information he had, these two are myths and legends among the hunting community. The stories are incredible but cannot be verified directly. When those earthquakes and other natural disasters were off the scale about 4-5 years ago and then suddenly stopped, the story is that it was the brothers who stopped them somehow. 

“On the other hand, they do have extensive criminal records, as well as those YouTube videos of them robbing banks and committing cold blooded mass murder. Director Fury also said that the two agents who left had told them of rumors among the other hunters that the Winchesters were destined to either save the world or destroy it.”

All of them stopped chewing and turned to look at the brothers. Dean saw them staring oddly and frowned, mouthing ‘what?’ around a bite of food. No one responded and they all turned back to Steve.

“So, what do we do with this information, Cap?” Clint asked.

“Director Fury said that none of what they had was concrete, but he tended to believe it himself. But he’s leaving it up to us to make our own determination and act accordingly. With what we’ve seen already, between the magic at the hospital and the glaring issue of Crowley, I’d say we need to decide as a team on which side of the fence we stand.” He met the eyes of each team member, silently imparting the request to really consider their stance before they meet again. They all nodded and finished their dishes. 

Over the next few hours, they talked amongst themselves in smaller groups, comparing notes and thoughts. The prisoner watched them, uncomfortably aware that he and his brother were the topic of conversation, even if he didn’t know what they were saying. 

The sun had begun to dip over the horizon, when Bruce spoke up.

“With Sam’s recovery at a critical juncture, we will need to have Dean directly at bedside at each wake up and treatment to help with his brother.” Steve gestured for Clint to bring the prisoner, hands cuffed in front of him, out to sit next to his brother’s bed. Steve waited until Bruce had explained to the older brother why he was being given this freedom before he cleared his throat.

“While one of us needs to always be on hand, everyone else is free to come and go.” This was a reminder to Dean that he would always be guarded but he’d be allowed some freedom as long as he complied. He watched Dean nod as he understood the request. 

“Everyone needs to take a rest period. Some more than others. We’ll reconvene here in four hours. Thor and I will remain until then. Everyone else, get some rest and decompress. Clint, Tony.”

Clint looked up with a pout, he closed the book he had opened only a few minutes ago on his finger to keep his place.

“Really? Gonna call me out like that?”

“Clint,” Natasha kicked him lightly with her boot. “You’re exhausted. I’m rested because I was on downtime all week. Steve had a decent sleep last night. Not sure how Thor is.” She looked at Thor who assured her he was hale and hearty. “You, however, spent most of last week on a mission and on your feet. And I know you didn’t sleep for more than a couple of hours last night. If you can honestly tell me you got more than two hours of continuous sleep every 24 hours over the last seven days, I’ll tell Steve you’re fine.” Clint rolled his eyes and pouted deeper.

“Fiiiiine,” he whined, standing up and turning to leave. He whipped back around and pointed at Bruce. “But don’t start without me. I’ll be back in two hours.”

“Three, minimum,” Steve said. Clint looked from him to Natasha who was glaring at him.

“Three! All right!” he threw up his hands and left the room, Natasha plucking the book from his fingers as he passed her. He balked but she shut the door in his face.

Tony glared at Dean again and stalked out of the room, muttering about psychopaths. Bruce sat down at the computer, making notes and checking readouts.

Natasha picked up all the books and gathered them onto the table over by the window, putting them in order as it appeared that they were numbered, before heading down to her own room for a rest.

“Dean, if you want to rest before he wakes again, the other bed is free. We’ll let you know when something changes.” Steve watched Dean nod, running his hand over his lower face before moving to and flopping onto the bed with a groan.

“Just yell when he wakes up again,” Dean mumbled into the pillow.

“Of course,” Steve replied. Dean raised his hand in acknowledgement. Within minutes, his breathing evened out and slowed as he fell asleep again, fully clothed, shoes still laced. Steve was beginning to think Dean was used to falling asleep like this, utterly exhausted and dressed, ready to bolt immediately upon waking. It was a sad thought.

Steve stepped over to confer with Thor, who remained seated, Mjolnir resting next to him. He stared at Sam with something akin to adoration in his eyes. 

“What’s on your mind, Thor?” Steve asked, sitting down next to him on one of the chairs along the wall.

“Samuel Winchester,” he rumbled softly. “Heimdall has spoken this name with awe. He would not tell me what had him struck with this human, and only said I should wait to speak with him myself. Thus, I vow to wait and do just that.” Steve nodded, partially to himself.

“It’ll be a few more hours. I can have Jarvis let you know when he’s waking up if you want to go get some snacks. I know Pepper just restocked the fruit pastries.” Thor grinned very broadly at Steve.

“Lady Pepper is the most wonderful companion of Tony, is she not?” Steve nodded and laughed.

“She is. She and Jarvis definitely keep this place and Tony running.”

“Aye. But I will wait to snack after my impending conversation.” Thor quieted, staring thoughtfully at the young man sleeping peacefully in the bed.

*****

After Bruce returned a few hours later in preparation to administer the fourth dose, he lowered the painkiller/sedation setting. Steve and Thor watched quietly until Bruce noticed Sam’s vitals changing as he began slowly waking up. This time it was much quieter. His eyelids fluttered and his brow furrowed, but he didn’t moan. Bruce took this as a good sign. Dean was awake as soon as Steve tapped his shoulder. He quickly came out to stand next to his brother.

“Sam?” Dean asked quietly. Sam opened his eyes after about ten minutes, blinking slowly. His glassy eyes cleared a little and he spied Dean next to him.

“Dean?” He croaked, clearing his throat. Bruce handed Dean a water cup with a straw to offer to his brother, then raised the head of the bed up a little, stopping Dean before he could let Sam drink though, so he could pull the feeding tube from his stomach where it had been fed through his nostril. Sam gagged a little before it finally came out, was closed off, and put aside. Finally, Dean leaned in and put the straw in Sam’s mouth. Sam closed his eyes and took a few sips. Sighing as his mouth and throat felt less raw. “Dean?”

“I’m here, Sammy,” Dean said, sitting the cup of water down on the little table. He stood next to the bed and leaned over. He saw Sam pull his hands up and look down at his wrists at the restraints. Sam rolled his eyes back as he remembered. 

“How bad is it?” He finally asked his brother. 

“Well, Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark figured out it was God’s ‘power’ or solar radiation that had poisoned you,” Dean began. Sam cut him off.

“Not me, Dean. How much trouble are we in?” Sam muttered angrily, squeezing his eyelids closed. Steve and Thor, who were now standing quietly waiting, glanced at each other. “Wait…Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark?” He opened his eyes and looked around, his vision clearing a little. He looked behind Dean and saw Steve and Thor, his eyes going wide, then he looked to his left and Bruce was standing there.

“Dean?” Sam said, not believing what he was seeing.

“Yeah, Sammy, the Avengers.” Dean smiled and wagged his eyebrows as his brother blinked and tried to wrap his still recuperating brain around that. “How’s that for freaking awesome?” Bruce coughed and leaned over him.

“Mr. Winchester, Sam,” he started awkwardly, “I need to ask you how or what you’re feeling. How would you rate your pain?” Sam blinked at him before schooling his face as he thought how to answer.

“Um, better than I was,” Sam replied. “Pain? About a five.” Dean scoffed from where he had sat back down in the chair and Sam gave him a bitchface.

“Sam’s five is a normal person’s eight,” Dean explained. “He’s got a high pain tolerance, but he wouldn’t even admit it if he were hurting unless he was dying.” Bruce nodded, having had experience with his coworkers’ reticence to admit to pain as well.

“Not sure what you know about radiation poisoning and its effects on the body,” Bruce told him, “but it’s going to be a while before we can completely wean you off pain medications. And longer still until you’re healed. Although I must say, your recovery speed is nothing short of amazing.”

Sam just laid his head back and nodded.

“And then what? Prison?” Sam asked. Steve gave him a considering look.

“Well, based on your arrest records,” Steve said, Sam looking up at him, “that’s up to the judge and jury. Dr. Banner graciously saved your life, but the law is the law.” 

“I understand, Captain Rogers,” Sam said before turning to Bruce. “Dr. Banner, I’ve read a few of your papers and it’s an honor to meet you, even in these circumstances.” Bruce smiled in surprise. “And thank you for what you’ve done for me.”

“I was happy to help and would like to talk to you more about what happened to you,” Bruce said. Sam looked at Dean, who shrugged, having a silent conversation with Sam like Nat and Clint were often seen to do. Finally, Sam nodded, seeming to understand whatever it was that Dean wanted to convey.

“It’ll sound crazy as hell, but we’re happy to tell you whatever you need to know.” Sam looked down at his wrists again, shaking his head.

Steve was admittedly shocked at the difference in personalities between Sam and Dean. Dean was rough, flippant, and brusque. Sam was soft spoken, polite, and educated. Bruce looked down over his notes as Sam turned his head back to Dean.

“So, what’s going on, Dean? Where’s Cas? Was that really the angels falling?” 

“First of all,” Dean started, “Metatron tricked Cas and stole his grace. Cas is human now and safe with Kevin. Heaven is closed for business. All the angels are stuck here and pissed at us and Cas. A few of those dicks attacked us at the hospital but the Avengers saved our bacon. We’re both under arrest, though, until you’re well enough for us to be handed over to the authorities. Crowley broke the cuffs and got away. But hey, you’re not dying anymore, so guess we’re winning.” Dean smiled sarcastically.

“Riiiiight,” Sam said, “Yay us. You should have let me close the gates, Dean.” Sam slammed his head back onto the pillow. Dean leaned back in shock.

“It would have killed you, Sam.”

“But all the demons would be locked away and you’d only have to deal with the angels.” Dean leaned forward again angrily.

“Yeah, Me. I would have had to deal with the angels. Just me. Alone.” Dean growled, standing up. He started pacing beside Sam’s bed. “I already told you, I ain’t gonna let you just die.”

“It’s not up to you, Dean!” Sam growled back. He couldn’t talk any louder because he was still very tired. “I was ready to die.”

“But I wasn’t ready to let you. You just don’t see it, do you?”

“What, Dean? That you’d do better without me holding you back? That it’s always you saving my ass, just like now? If you had let me go, then you’d be free and not in freaking handcuffs.” Sam’s voice was softer now, more sad and tired than angry. Dean stopped by his head and dropped to his heels.

“Sammy,” Dean sighed. “You’re my little brother and saving your ass is my job. It’s the first thing Dad ever said to me after they brought you home. ‘You gotta take care of your baby brother, Dean.’ And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you sacrifice yourself again. That last time almost killed me too.” Sam looked away from Dean, towards the monitors nearby.

Bruce coughed, reminding them that they weren’t alone. Sam looked up and blushed. Dean sighed and fell back into the chair next to the bed.

Thor stepped to the foot of the bed.

“Samuel Winchester!” He nearly shouted in enthusiasm. Sam flinched a little at the loud sound but smiled at the god.

“Um, hello, uh, Thor,” he responded. Sam glanced down at where Thor was casually gripping Mjolnir. He pointed with his chin at the hammer. “I’m glad to see you found it.” Thor looked startled.

“You had a hand in Mjolnir’s return?” Thor asked, his smile disappearing as shock was clear in his voice. Dean shifted in the chair.

“Yeah, Sam insisted we help you get it back.” Dean said.

“Wait, you lost Mjolnir?” Steve asked. Thor waved a hand dismissively.

“It was magicked away for a brief period,” Thor said as if it were a trifle. “There was an uproar, but it was recovered in one of your abandoned buildings here on Earth after only a week of your time. Heimdall located it once the magic that had hidden it was removed. We still don’t know who took it.”

“Well, long story short,” Dean said, eyeing Sam, “we got sucked into a supernatural auction while we were trying to get the demon tablet back. That hammer was on auction by Plutus, the god of greed. A man named Mr. Vili purchased it with 5/8ths of a virgin.” Sam and Dean shuddered. “Mr. Vili tried to claim it was his, but we knew better.” Dean replied, smiling to himself.

“Uncle Vili had gained possession of it?” Thor growled angrily and lifted up the hammer. They could all feel the static electricity building around him. Dean stood up quickly and put up his hand to him.

“Hold up there. You use that thing in here, you’ll kill Sam for good. Just calm down. You got it back, right? Sam took good care of it. He carried it around for days before we found a safe place to leave it for you to find.”

“What?!” Thor, Steve, and Bruce all twitched in astonishment.

“This human,” Thor pointed with the hammer at Sam, “Took up Mjolnir?” Sam flinched back, Dean getting further in between the god and his brother.

“Look,” Dean said defensively, hands still out to keep Thor back, “If there’s some rule against a mortal touching your hammer, take it out on me, okay? Sam just wanted to do the right thing.”

“Dean,” Sam said indignantly. Dean shushed him and coughed nervously.

“All hell broke loose at the auction. Plutus was killed and we were being attacked by demons and Plutus’ turncoat assistant. We were trapped and in trouble. That Mr. Vili had the hammer, so Sam grabbed it and killed one of the demons, and the assistant who was going to kill Kevin. I chased off the other one. And when Mr. Vili tried to take it from him, Sam wouldn’t let him have it. Sam knows you’re a good guy god and he was upset that your weapon was stolen. But hey, look at you now. Hammer all shiny and in your hand.” Dean was shifting with a nervous smile as he watched thunderous emotions crawl across Thor’s face at this information and heard thunder outside the Tower, no doubt caused by said god in front of him.

Steve and Bruce didn’t move, not knowing what was coming next but if Thor moved to hurt Sam or Dean, they would have to step in. The thunder god finally burst into booming laughter, the static dissipating quickly. Steve and Bruce relaxed. Dean, however, wasn’t sure what was happening and looked over towards them for some indication. Thor grabbed Dean in a bear hug, dropping him before stepping closer to Sam’s bedside.

“Valiant warriors indeed,” boomed Thor. “Uncle Vili had none but evil intentions with it in his possession. What became of him?”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said tiredly, “but I had to kill him when he tried to take it back from me.”

“You killed a god?” Steve asked with reverence in his voice.

“Wasn’t our first,” Dean shrugged his shoulders.

“Your intercession has saved Asgard, as well as Earth!” Thor knelt beside Sam’s bed, bowing his head. “This day I make a vow to repay you for the honor you have granted me by returning Mjolnir to my hand, so that I might continue to protect the Nine Realms. Your name will be sung in the halls of Asgard once the truth is revealed to the court of Odin. This I vow, Samuel Winchester, Protector of Midgard.” 

All of them were still flabbergasted, when Clint, Natasha and Tony walked in together, talking about the books. They stopped at the tableau. Thor stood again and put his free hand on Dean’s shoulder again. 

“Brother warrior,” he said earnestly. Dean stood still. “Your actions today, your care for your brother, your warrior’s heart. All have proven to me that Heimdall was not in error in his assessment and that you are truly worthy of my friendship.” Thor dropped his hand from his shoulder to clasp Dean’s arm but was prevented a full warrior’s clasp because of the cuffs. “Until I can greet you properly,” Thor said to Dean, “hold in your heart that I and my people will always be grateful to you and Samuel and always welcome you as heroes of Midgard.” 

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean said, leaning on the edge of the hospital bed, the adrenaline leaving him drained.

“You really picked up Mjolnir?” Bruce asked Sam. Sam shrugged. 

“Yeah, I guess whatever magic the auctioneer and Mr. Vili used to lift it was still on it. It’s not that big of a deal.” He finally shrugged in embarrassment.

“But no, Samuel Winchester,” Thor explained, “I know the powerful magic this god of greed used to take Mjolnir. It gave possession to the caster and only those the caster bestowed the magic upon specifically. It would work for none other. Even with both dead, only the purest of spirit and one worthy to be ruler of Asgard may wield the mighty hammer, Mjolnir. It will not deign any other person to budge it. That you were able to lift and use my hammer is truly a marvel. You are only one of two people who have ever done so, aside from the creator. Myself being the first.”

Dean grunted and smiled, looking at Sam too. Now it was Sam who gaped in astonishment. Natasha gave a nervous laugh and looked over at a gaping Clint and Tony. Even Steve was gaping at him. Thor was beaming.

“Yeah? Damn, Sam.” Dean said. He leaned over and patted Sam’s shoulder. 

“This I gotta see,” Clint said, breaking free of the shock. He immediately walked past Thor and undid the restraint on Sam’s right arm. He just looked at him in confusion. “Thor, hand it to me.” He put his hand out to Thor, who eyed Clint before holding out the hammer. Clint wrapped his hand around the handle. As soon as Thor released it, Clint was yanked forward as the hammer plunged to the floor with a dull thunk. And try as he might, he couldn’t budge it. “Now you,” he said, gesturing to Dean.

Dean approached warily, then bent over and gripped the handle. Pulling did no good, the same as with Clint. Thor chuckled before reaching over and taking up the hammer again.

“Now hand it to him,” Clint indicated Sam. Sam tenuously held out his right hand to take the handle. Thor gingerly passed it over. Thor released the hammer and Dean jumped forward, prepared to grab his brother if he was yanked over the side of the bed, but instead the hammer in his hand only dipped a little. Sam moved it up and down before letting it sink to the mattress, the weight too much while he was still recovering. Clint whooped and danced around.

Thor took back Mjolnir and patted Sam’s arm. Dean really was astonished now.

“So, what does this mean?” Tony asked, shushing Clint’s excited noises. “Does this mean this suspected serial killer is really a saint at heart?” Dean and Sam exchanged a look and started laughing. They laughed for a short time before realizing they were being stared at curiously. Sam blushed.

“I’m not a serial killer,” He said still smiling, “But I’m definitely not a saint.” His thoughts fell inward, and his smile faded completely, his exhaustion keeping him from shielding these emotions. “More of an abomination,” he muttered quietly. Dean caught it and shook his head, leaning forward to tap Sam’s cheek.

“Uh, uh, geek boy,” Dean admonished him. “What did I tell you? Cas should have never said that to you. But he knows better now. We got work to do and we ain’t got time to rehash who did or said what to whom and why. We talked about this. We move on and do the best we can.” Sam blinked and the faraway look of utter sadness that was in his eyes retreated and was replaced by determination. Their audience had all seen the dark look that had come over Sam before Dean had interrupted it.

“Okay,” Sam coughed, clearing his throat and the emotions at the same time, yawning and laying back tiredly again.

“Bruce,” Steve said after a brief thoughtful moment. “Do you think Sam will be able to sit up for a longer discussion tomorrow? I’m pretty sure we’ve already tired him out considerably.” Dean looked gratefully at Steve for the thought even as Sam tried to sit up higher in the bed.

“No, I’m good.” Sam said, his voice barely betraying the exhaustion. “What do you need to know?”

“Nothing right this moment,” Bruce said as he injected the fourth treatment dose and turned the painkiller back up, but only enough to ease any pain, not force the man into unconsciousness. Sam’s recovery, however, still left him drained and he tried to protest as his eyes drooped, fighting sleep. “We can revisit that question in the morning.”

Steve directed everyone except Natasha out of the room for now, not wanting Sam to have the distraction of people to talk to. The music filtering into the infirmary was a quiet soft rock song that Dean knew would help his brother sleep. Steve whispered to Clint as they passed from the room that they’d have to talk about Sam’s ability to lift Thor’s hammer eventually. Clint just glanced back with a smile and nodded.

Natasha allowed Dean to move back to the other bed in the room and put the restraint back on Sam as he finally drifted off again. Bruce dropped down onto the stool and made more notes on his tablet.

As it was the wee morning hours, Natasha leaned back in the same chair Clint has previously inhabited, seeing the same vantage points he had, thinking deeply about all she had learned of these two men. Bruce eventually drifted out of the room to get a little more sleep.

*****

First light, Steve slipped back into the infirmary and got an update from Tasha, who reported nothing more than both brother sleeping restlessly but sleeping nonetheless. The music was still soft rock and soothing as it was just loud enough to be recognized. Dean sat up, yawning when we heard Steve talking to the redhead. 

“Hey, Cap,” Dean said softly. Steve stepped closer so he could hear the man without him raising his voice and possibly waking the sleeping man. “Can I get some clean clothes out of my car and get a shower. I’ve been in these for three days and I’m beginning to smell myself.” Steve chuckled, nodding.

“I’ll get Clint or Natasha to take you down for clothes,” he replied just as softly. “Whichever one who volunteers can take you to the shower room on the gym level to clean up. Eat breakfast first.” Dean nodded, leaning back to enjoy the small freedom of remaining by Sam’s bedside until bacon, eggs, and toast was brought in, with a few magazines on the tray.

*****

It ended up being Natasha who escorted him to the car for a clean change of clothes, but Clint who escorted him to the showers because Dean was adamant about not stripping in front of the lady assassin. Clint and Tony had laughed until Dean had asked which one of them had stripped in front of Natasha willingly. Both of them had blushed and clammed up immediately, Natasha bursting into laughter as she walked away. 

“She’s seen me naked,” Clint admitted once Dean was in the shower and soaping up. “But it was on a mission and it wasn’t planned. I got captured and the clothes got in the way of their creative torture. She found me and had to drag me out of there completely bare-assed and bloody as a rare steak, but she never commented. And yes, I’ve seen her naked, again, on a mission that went to shit, and no, I won’t tell you anything more.”

Dean had stopped and leaned out of the shower curtain to look at the archer.

“You too ever, uh…” Dean asked blinking soap out of one eye. Clint barked a laugh at that.

“God, no,” he finally was able to reply. “She’s like my sister. It’d be like you and Sam doing it.” Dean grimaced and shuddered before he ducked back inside and went back to washing the grime and sweat away.

“Yeah, I get that. Although we’ve been in some close quarters where it’s hard not to see everything and then some, he’s my brother and that’s just…just…no.” Dean grimaced again. He heard Clint laugh outside the shower stall.

“The reports say you’re a lady’s man.” Dean paused and nodded to himself.

“Yeah, I’ve been known to pick up a chick or two when there’s time or opportunity. I’ve tried to get Sammy to join me on nights on the town, hoping he’d find a little relief himself, but he’s old-fashioned and picky when it comes to partners.” Dean finished rinsing off and pulled the towel in to begin drying himself. “But his luck in love is horrible. Just destined for heartbreak.”

“His file said that his college girlfriend was killed.” Clint heard Dean freeze, then take a slow, deep breath before pulling his clothes on.

“Jess.” Dean said sadly. “He doesn’t talk about her anymore. Had nightmares for nearly a year after she died. He was going to propose after his law school interview, but the demon killed her in front of him the night before. He told me later he had been dreaming about her dying for a week before it happened, but he didn’t say anything because he thought that’s all it was, a dream.” Dean stepped out in fresh jeans and a grey rockband t-shirt, no socks or shoes, carrying his dirty clothes and the wet towel and washcloth. Clint took the towel and washcloth and dropped them into the bin near the door. He re-cuffed him before they walked from the shower room, heading back up to the infirmary.

“You implied that there’s been more than one bad relationship…” he prompted Dean with a sideways glance. Dean didn’t look at the man next to him. 

“Not ‘bad relationships’, but bad endings to his relationships. Mom died protecting him. Then Jess died the same way. There was a preacher’s daughter who had a ghost following her around killing anyone she got involved with. He got hurt badly before we were able to stop it. Then the girl who got turned into a werewolf and he had to put her down when she asked. There was Meg, oh, and Ruby, both demon bitches who were just manipulating Sam for Hell’s purposes. There was Sarah, who Sam walked away from to keep her safe, but Crowley killed her not long ago to try to get Sam to stop doing the trials. There was Sam’s psycho stalker, who kidnapped and drugged him. And yeah, that coroner lady during that whole thing with the Siren who made us try to kill each other. She dumped him because we had accused her of being the siren.” He wasn’t even going to mention soulless Sam’s conquests because those couldn’t even be considered relationships.

They had just arrived back at the infirmary door, but Dean didn’t want to continue this line of discussion where Sam could hear. He’d been through enough. Clint was looking overwhelmed with sympathy by this time.

“No men that you know of? I mean, he loves you and you’re still here. I know it’s not like that, but you named your mom, so I just assumed you meant all relationships.” Dean blinked at him.

“Yeah, Dad died selling his soul to save me. Our pseudo dad, Bobby, died helping us fight leviathans. His college buddy, Brady, turned out to be a demon, THE demon that killed Jess, and he was killed later. I have died, but I came back. He never mentioned any men as romantic partners.” Dean said. To himself, he thought about what Lucifer had done to his little brother, but rape doesn’t count as a relationship. With that he stepped into the room, Clint got the hint and cut off the next question.

Dean stopped at the foot of Sam’s bed to reassure himself before he continued to his regular chair. Once the archer moved back to lean against the wall, the hunter half turned in the chair, pausing to finish the conversation.

“It’s why he won’t let anyone else get close to him. I’m safe to him because I’ve died and come back more times than he wants to remember but I always came back. He knows that anyone he gets close to will be killed eventually or turn out to be a monster, so he just doesn’t. And all my relationships have failed too. Except him and Cas and I guess Kevin, and I’m sure we’ll fail them and they’ll die too one day. But I refuse to fail Sam.” He looked Clint in the eye on that last sentence, then dropped his dirty clothes next to the chair, half under the bed. He then leaned back heavily and took up watch on his baby brother.

Clint paused, looking over at the sleeping man now under Tony’s care. Tony nodded at Clint, seeing the thoughtful stare of his teammate, who didn’t respond except to glance at Tony in silence. Tony furrowed his brow and looked at Dean, who was staring at his brother with such sadness that he couldn’t even fathom the depth of the conversation the two men had had between the shower and the infirmary, but he’d definitely ask his friend later.


	6. Not Tuesday!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has a panic attack. The Winchesters and the Avengers have a full discussion.

Dean had perused all three magazines fleetingly, one dedicated to muscle cars, one a graphic novel about the Ghostbusters, and one a magazine about celebrities. The last one definitely was not his taste but they had an article about Dr. Sexy buried in there that he deemed okay to read out of sheer boredom. He was just getting into the article when the alarms began to go off on the monitors. Dean threw them to the ground and stood beside Sam, scanning him anxiously. Sam’s heart was racing and his breathing was labored. His eyes were open but fogged, as though caught in a nightmare.

“Sammy?” Dean said, putting one hand on his brother’s chest, another on his cheek. Sam’s eyes cleared a bit once he focused on him but his panic attack didn’t break.

“Tuesday?” Sam gasped when he could get enough air. Dean frowned in confusion before his brain finally caught the faint strains of Asia’s ‘Heat of the Moment’ coming from the ceiling speakers.

“God damn it!” Dean yelled, “Turn that song off!” Tony and Clint, who he now noticed were standing nearby, ready to assist, jumped in surprise. “It’s the reason for the panic attack! Turn it off. NOW!”

“Jarvis, music off,” Tony said quickly, watching the brothers closely. Once the song was gone, Dean focused back on his brother.

“Sam, breathe with me. In...and…out. Again. Breathe in…and out.” Dean did this for a good few minutes until the younger man was steady and the alarms had gone silent as his heartrate and breathing returned to normal. He had heard Tony have Jarvis let the others know not to worry about the alarms as Sam was fine, just a panic attack and Dean had it under control. The PTSD was known now so they were less concerned than they would have been. 

“You good now?” Dean finally asked him. Sam swallowed and settled back in the bed. “You remember where you are and what’s going on?” Sam looked around before nodding.

“Yeah, Avengers Tower, falling angels,” Sam muttered, between sips of the cool water Dean offered him from the cup and straw. “Mjolnir…did that really happen?” He looked up at Dean suddenly. Dean laughed at him.

“Yep, baby brother,” he replied. “You impressed a whole room of superheroes and a god.” Dean put down the cup and sat back in the chair, Clint standing further back, out of the way.

“S’Not Tuesday, right?” Sam looked around, seeing only sunlight and clouds out of the windows. He was finally able to take in the full room, seeing the window and the door looking into what looked like a hallway. He also saw the window and door that looked to lead into a room with a bed. It looked oddly placed but he didn’t say anything as Tony leaned against the bedrail beside him.

“It’s actually Wednesday.” Tony looked down at his smart watch before noting the time on the tablet he carried. There was a notable relaxation in Sam at hearing the day. Tony took another mental note.

“How are you feeling? And your pain level?” Tony pulled out a pen light to check his eyes. Sam flinched away from the light.

“Pain’s about a 4 now. Still tired and achy,” Sam responded promptly, still not completely aware. Tony made notes and nodded with a grunt.

“Well, how about I up your painkillers so you can get some more sleep?” Sam startled and pulled at the wrist restraints, his face scrunching in fear. Dean stood up again quickly, shushing his brother. 

“He’s been drugged against his will before,” Dean explained to Tony before turning his full attention back to Sam. “Hey, it’s okay, Sammy. I’m here with you. I won’t leave you. I’ll be right here by your side, the whole time.” Sam settled down slowly, the fear never completely leaving his eyes. “I promise, nothing bad will happen. Think you’ll be strong enough to sit up for a tell all with the Avengers later today?” Sam swallowed and nodded. Dean nodded subtly at Tony, who tapped his tablet slowly, to not panic the patient again.

“I’ll be ready, Dean,” Sam said as he felt the drugs begin to pull him down. He tensed as he wanted to fight them, but they were already flooding his bloodstream, and so soon after the adrenaline filled panic attack, he succumbed quickly. Dean combed his finger through Sam’s long hair until he was sure he was completely out and the monitors all slowed to a resting rate. 

Tony and Clint stared at the two of them for a bit longer, as Dean sat beside his younger brother and kept contact with him as he slept. 

“Why did that song cause a panic attack?” Tony said softly, causing Dean to look up at him with tired eyes.

“Not sure if you guys read the book in the series about the Mystery Spot,” Dean said slowly, “but the trickster locked me and Sam in a time loop. It was always Tuesday and he always woke up to that song. Every day ended the same way, with my death. He told me he quit keeping track after the first hundred loops but he never stopped trying to save me.” He shrugged at their confused looks. “He was the only one who remembered each day. He doesn’t usually react that bad, but being sick makes him more vulnerable, more emotional.”

“I really wasn’t expecting him to wake up in a total panic like that. What was with his being drugged against his will?” Tony asked. Dean shook his head.

“Besides that whole mental hospital fiasco with Martin, a fan of the books became his stalker after she found out we weren’t just story characters. She kidnapped and drugged him to get him to marry her. Had what she thought was a witch give her a love potion to keep him under her mind control but turned out it was a demon and the potion wasn’t as long lasting on him as they thought. She ended up giving him a concussion with a frying pan at one point, then stripped him and tied him to the bed. He was finally able to talk some sense into her and got her to release him and help us stop the demon, but it was still rough on the kid.” It was Tony’s turn to shake his head.

“Why is it that every time you answer a question, I suddenly have a hundred more?”

“Trust me,” Dean groaned, running his hand over his face, “you’re only getting a taste of Winchester ‘normal’.”

Clint and Tony shared a look. They had been doing that a lot around these two and it was becoming a very bad habit, more looks, less talking, but the room was quiet and somber. Clint went to another chair and dropped into it while Tony moved to the console and re-opened one of his other projects after prompting Jarvis to alert him immediately if the monitoring even suggested the patient was waking up. They left the music off from then on.

*****

The Avengers wandered in and out of the infirmary, delivering and receiving updates, talking in soft tones even though Sam was deep asleep. Dean spent most of that time lost in his own thoughts, muttering general responses when prompted about his own wellbeing. Bruce had come to relieve Tony and with the knowledge of what was probably coming today, he took advantage of the peace and quiet and mildly sedated man to remove his catheter. 

Dean had a vague idea of what the others were discussing around him, but wasn’t letting on that he understood. The SHIELD agents had checked in with building security and local agencies to find out of if any odd attacks had taken place overnight. While Stark’s security team had found a few people prowling around the base of the building, not daring to get close enough to the doors to come in, they all had one item in common, an odd silver blade, almost a sword. Nat and Clint recognized the images as the Angel blades. But the angel warding appeared to be working and it was keeping them out of the building.

When lunch was brought up for the Winchesters, Clint and Thor had stepped out. Dean was alert as soon as he smelled the juicy hamburger and fries. Steve handed him the plate, along with a bottle of water and smiled when Dean leaned down, took a deep whiff and sighed appreciatively before digging in. Tony carried a sealed metal container for Sam, who appeared to finally about to rise from slumber. The older hunter noticed, inhaling his food, handing the empty plate to Steve as he came over to await the brother’s awakening.

Natasha was sipping her own cup of hot tea when she slipped into the infirmary, where she leaned casually by the door. She and Clint had spent part of last night and this morning sharing things that had been said or discovered by or about the two prisoners. The more observing she could squeeze in, the more information they would have. The older brother’s concern had been palpable over the last few days. Neither she nor Clint had noticed any real rebelliousness from either, except during the demon’s visit to Sam’s bedside (yes, they had taken to calling him the demon), and when Thor had gotten visibly upset when Sam had opened the can of worms about the magical hammer. Even then, it had only been Dean’s protectiveness over his brother, not attacks or attempts to escape by either brother.

Her goal today was to observe Sam, who Bruce had assured her, should be much more aware and able to participate than any time previously. The information from the records and reports were spotty, even contradictory where the younger brother was concerned. He had been noted as being a ‘half-wit’, as well as ‘brilliant’, ‘violent’, as well as ‘well mannered’. They needed a more accurate picture before any further steps were taken. Clint had promised Steve his and Nat’s observations after today’s meeting with the brothers. Fury was leaving it in Steve’s hands.

Sam’s monitoring feeds had been indicating him surfacing from sedation for some time now, but from what Clint and Tony had said about the morning episode, he’d been deeper under this time and his brother would be right there to ease him into wakefulness.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean nearly whispered, leaning over his brother, one hand on his chest, thumb brushing back and forth soothingly. The patient’s eyelids moved as he made a quiet sound in reply, but it wasn’t words yet. “Come on, now. Time to get your lazy ass up. We got work to do.” Before his eyes could flutter open, there was a small movement of his mouth and his mutter was clearer, if not louder. It sounded like a foreign language being slurred into incomprehension. “Can’t understand you, little brother. Speak English.” Nat snorted.

“He said ‘I’m not lazy’ in Latin,” she chuckled and sipped her tea. All their heads swiveled to where she stood, even Sam’s moved slightly, the eyes finally appearing between the long lashes. She shrugged in response to their looks.

“Huh,” Tony chuffed, looking back at the man on the bed. Dean patted the chest and laughed at Sam.

“Yes, you are. Even sticking to Latin to make the rest of us do more work to understand you. L. A. Z. Y. Lazy.” Beneath his hand, he felt the chest flutter in what could have been an attempt at a laugh. Dean saw the eyes barely open but looking at him and the corner of his mouth was quirked up. He laughed in relief and shook his head.

Sam’s eyes opened a bit more with each blink and he tried to sit up straighter. Bruce adjusted the head of the bed so that he was more vertical. The young man tried to clear his throat and coughed. He grunted in thanks as a water cup with a straw was offered to him by Dean, the water soothing the dryness so he could respond properly.

“Dean, uh,” Sam finally croaked out. He looked around the room, pausing at each face. “Captain Rogers, Mr. Stark, Dr. Banner, Black Widow.” They knew that obviously Cap, Thor, Iron Man, and Hulk (but Sam knew Dr. Bruce Banner by his work) were the faces of the Avengers, but the other two members were more names than faces, as their identities were kept more secretive. Thusly, the public really only knew them as Black Widow and Hawkeye, not Agents Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton. Nat smiled and saluted him with her cup.

“Call me Natasha.” Sam swallowed and smiled back at her, seeing the fiery red hair and the dark green eyes, not quite the same shade as his brothers. Steve coughed to pull his attention back and Sam blushed as his eyes stuttered away from her. Dean smirked to himself as he saw the look his brother shared with the sexy secret agent. Not once had she offered to let him call her by her first name.

“How are you feeling this morning, Sam?” Bruce asked, rolling his stool closer to the bed, tablet in hand once again. Tony leaned forward to inject the fifth treatment dose. Tony then took Sam’s cup and poured a tan liquid from the metal container into it, before offering him the straw to sip it. Sam eyed it suspiciously but took a few sips. It only took a few before the nausea made it too hard to drink anymore.

“Still a little foggy, not so achy, but heavy, like my entire body is being weighed down,” he finally said after considering the question. He lifted one hand against the wrist restraint. “Pain is pretty minimal but I’m sure that’s from the meds in the IV, more than being better.” Bruce nodded, entering data on the tablet.

“It’s likely that the painkiller/sedation combo from earlier is causing the fog and the lack of real pain, but it should continue to wear off over the next half hour or so.” Sam nodded to him. “Seriously, if you start hurting, you have to let me know sooner rather than later so we can help before it gets too bad. Don’t try to pretend it’s not there because if you feel it, there’s more coming, at least for a while to go.”

“Yeah, Sam,” Dean chuffed. “I don’t want to hear ‘I’m fine’ at all until Dr. Banner here tells me you’re fully healed. Got it?” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Got it, mom.” He sighed, laying his head back, rolling it side to side on the pillow slowly before looking around again. “So, let’s get to work then.” Dean smiled proudly, clapping his brother on the chest gently. The Avengers looked at each other in mild surprise. Steve coughed again.

“Bruce, Tony, is it safe to allow Sam to sit in on a conference for a more in-depth discussion? I’m not sure the seating in here will be adequate for all of us.” Bruce eyed Sam before replying.

“Well, I’m not sure Sam’s strong enough to even sit all the way up yet.” Sam immediately pushed himself back as far as the wrist restraints allowed and cleared his throat.

“I may not be up to taking on the angels myself yet,” he said. “But I think I can attend a meeting if it’ll help. If you’ll undo my wrists, I can walk there.” Steve gave him a look of surprise. Dean snorted and Bruce and Tony exchanged dubious looks. Natasha smirked to see a bit of Clint’s determination in the boy’s spirit.

“Uh huh,” Dean said, “If you can stand up straight without swaying or stumbling, I’ll let you try walking. Otherwise, I’m sure Thor wouldn’t mind carrying you.” Sam looked over as Thor swept into the infirmary just then and smiled broadly. Did Thor do anything without grandeur?

“I would be honored to assist,” he rumbled. Sam swallowed.

“Um, no thanks. Just let me up.” Steve leaned over, undoing the restraints. Bruce had already informed them before breakfast that Sam was in no shape to fight or probably even defend himself as the painkillers made him physically weak, as if the illness itself wasn’t already. Bruce lowered the railing on the IV side and removed the nasal cannula and monitoring leads, gesturing for Natasha to bring over the wheelchair they had pulled from the storage closet earlier. Dean went around to help Sam sit up, where he blinked to dispel a wave of dizziness from the move. Dean smirked but Sam just bit his lip, determined. Thor slid in front of Bruce to help Dean.

Dean slowly pulled Sam’s legs around and off the side of the bed so he could place them on the floor. He still wore the soft, non-slip socks that had been put on him at the hospital days ago. Sam was breathing a bit heavily, but he nodded to Dean, who pulled him forward from the hunched position to help him stand. The Avengers watched the man as he slid forward, rising up and up, to stand at nearly full height. They could finally understand why the demon had called him Moose. He stood as tall as or maybe an inch taller than their tallest member, Thor, and towered over Bruce and Natasha. But that height difference disappeared when he swayed and stumbled before even his first step, then crumpled as his legs gave out from under him. They all held their breath, but Dean and Thor caught him before he could hit the hard floor and eased him into the wheelchair.

“Easy there, little brother,” Dean soothed as they lowered him into the seat. Bruce was busy moving the saline drip from the bed pole to the pole attached to the chair, while Dean knelt down and pulled out the footrests, picking up each of Sam’s feet and placing them gently. His head rolled forward for a moment, taking deep, heaving breaths, before he lifted his eyes, the dizziness clearing. “You sure you’re up to this?” Sam lifted his head, sweat beading on his face, and took a few more breaths, steadying himself.

“So, I may not be able to walk,” he said, “but we have a job to do and I’ll rest when it’s over.” Dean stared at him with a calculating look for a moment, before nodding.

They discussed adding the restraints to his wrists on the wheelchair but Steve had to admit that if the man was too weak to stand up, he most certainly was too weak to attack or run, so they left the restraints off, but assigned Natasha as his personal guard.

She wheeled him down to the elevator and up to the same meeting room they had used earlier. Sam had to keep his eyes closed for most of the trip as he fought back nausea from the movement. Dean walked beside him, glancing at him carefully every few minutes, his hands still cuffed in front of him. Steve walked with them, one hand on Dean’s bicep to keep control. The rest followed behind, tablets and books stacked in their hands, fully invested in finally getting the full story from the source.

Inside the conference room, Clint had been waiting. Dean was seated in the chair at the end of the conference table furthest from the door, Sam next to him in the wheelchair. 

The pale young man leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. He looked around at the Avengers seated there. Captain America, Iron Man, Hawkeye, Black Widow, Thor, and Dr. Banner, alter ego to the Hulk. They were all staring at the brothers like they were a rare but dangerous species of animal.

“So, story time,” Dean said. Tony crossed his arms, insanely curious.

“Not sure what you know or don’t, but here goes. Sam and I are hunters, which means we hunt the supernatural, things that go bump in the night. We were raised in the life. Saving people, hunting things. It’s the family business. Dad was a hunter. Mom was a hunter. Mom’s dad was a hunter, etc. We track and kill creatures and beings of legend and lore that hunt and kill humans. Common ones like demons, ghosts, vampires, djinn, and witches, along with wendigo, Shtriga, whatever is hurting people, feeding off them. I’m more of a slash and burn hunter. Sam is more a strategy and research guy. He can hold his own in fights but he’s better at the thinking part than I am.” He glanced at Sam.

“Seems Sam and I were part of a grand design by Heaven and Hell to manipulate our parents’ bloodlines to make us. You see, when God decided to catch a train out of the Milky Way a long time ago, his archangels decided they wanted to kick start the apocalypse. They needed the perfect vessels for the archangels, Michael in Heaven and Lucifer in the cage in Hell. Our parents being the most direct descendants of Adam and Eve, I was made for Michael and Sam for Lucifer. When Sammy was just a baby, a yellow-eyed demon, Azazel, came and he, uh,…” Dean paused and looked at his brother. Sam sighed.

“Azazel came into my nursery and infected me with demon blood,” Sam said without pausing. “He killed mom when she came in and tried to stop him. He burned her on the ceiling.” Dean took over again.

“Dad got me and Sam out but mom’s body burned in the house. He didn’t know about what the demon had done but nearly went crazy until he met a psychic who told him about hunting and the things in the dark. He became a hunter himself and went after Azazel out of revenge for mom. But it was all part of Azazel’s long-term plan.” Clint held up a hand. Dean gestured at him to put it down. “Save the questions to the end or we’ll never get there.” Clint put his hand down again.

“So, Sam and I grew up going from hunt to hunt, crappy motel room to crappy motel room, school to school, while Dad chased this demon down all over the US. Anyway, Dad eventually found out about what Azazel did to Sam and wanted revenge for that too. Sam left for college because he wanted away from hunting, wanted a normal life, but Azazel had Sam’s best friend at college possessed by another demon and had him kill Sam’s girlfriend, forcing him back into hunting.” Sam was zoned out now. It was his entire sordid history from the beginning, and he knew they’d hit on every misstep, every deadly error in his judgement.

“Dad went into hiding because the demons were hunting him. Then Sam started getting visions, showing him things that were going to happen, but they all centered around other people like him, with psychic powers. Turns out they were all like Sammy. Azazel had done to all of them what he’d done to my brother. We had him trapped at one time, but he got away and almost killed me. Dad died when he sold his soul to Azazel to save me. Then Azazel kidnapped Sam and the other kids to make them battle to the death to see who was strongest. Sam and this other guy, Jake, were the last ones alive, my brother refusing to do any killing, but before I could get to him, Jake killed him. Stabbed him the back and ran away like a little bitch.”

“But I couldn’t let that ride. I sold my soul for Sam. He came back and we stopped a Hell gate from opening in Wyoming. Killed Azazel, freed our dad’s soul from Hell, but a lot of other demons got out. That took some doing to track them down and send them back. Those Seven Deadly Sins were no joke. I had one year with Sam before I was killed by hellhounds and dragged to Hell. Time’s different there. A month on earth is 10 years in Hell. I was there for about 40 Hell years before Cas pulled me out. When I got back topside, Ruby, a demon bitch, had already gotten her hooks in Sam and had gotten him addicted to drinking demon blood.” He grimaced and glanced at his brother again. Sam just laid his forehead on his arms on the table.

Sam mumbled something they couldn’t hear but they could see the shudder.

“Uh huh. Well, me and Bobby, our pseudo dad, got him detoxed then he got sprung so he could continue to be used by Ruby and the demons. They told him that he had to kill Lilith, the first demon, to stop the apocalypse so he thought he was doing the right thing by building up his psychic powers with the demon blood, but really, she was the final Seal that would free Lucifer from the cage, where God had locked him away.” Dean hesitated, took a deep breath and continued.

“The first seal was broken by me. I was the righteous man who fell in Hell. I was tortured for 30 Hell years before I broke and became the torturer. I told myself I was only torturing people that belonged in Hell, but it was no excuse; I just couldn’t take the torture anymore.” He shrugged. “Then more seals were broken by demons. The angels pretended to care, but they were in on it. Sam thought he was doing it to save the world when he snuck off and killed Lilith with Ruby. I found him and killed Ruby, but it was too late. Lucifer was free. He found a temporary vessel, but only Sam could hold his grace. Being an archangel, he had to get Sam’s permission, but Sam told him no.” He smiled proudly down at Sam.

“I was meant for Michael, but I told him no too. I’ll tell ya, them angels play hard ball. They locked me in a room, trying everything they could to get me to agree to being Michael’s bitch. And when I escaped, they found our half-brother, Adam, who worked in a pinch, and manipulated him into saying yes. We were still fighting other things while we ran from the apocalypse but then the damned Four Horsemen showed up and we had to take ‘em out to get their rings. It was their rings and a spell that would open the Cage so Lucifer could be shoved back in. It was the only way to lock him back up and stop the end of the world. That’s where I met Death. Scary as all fuck but a straight shooter. He loaned me his ring because he wanted us to win.

“Now to get Lucifer back in the cage and completely derail the apocalypse, it needed him to actively jump in, but we knew he wouldn’t. Sammy came up with the idea to say yes but take control of his own body long enough to jump in. We didn’t know if it’d work but it was the only option we had left. He couldn’t do it at first, but on the day of the big battle in Stull Cemetery, Sam took back control from Lucifer. He did the spell and jumped into the Cage, pulling Michael, in Adam’s meatsuit in with them. Adam’s soul had already gone to Heaven before the jump, so for the year and a half, about 18 months or so that Sam was in the Cage, it was only him and two archangels with lots of anger to take out on him.” Sam had gone very still. Dean leaned over to lay his hand on Sam’s back, Bruce leaning forward in concern. Sam swallowed roughly.

“Go on, Dean,” came the shaky voice.

“My little brother sacrificed himself to save the world. And no one even knew it. I tried to leaving hunting, to live the life he asked me to, but it didn’t pan out. Never does for a hunter. Anyway, I found out a year later that Sam was alive, having been pulled from the Cage right after he jumped in, but they only got the vessel part. They forgot his soul. He was just a freakin robo hunter. No moral compass, just crazy, mad fighting skills. I had to ask Death to get his soul back for me. He did, but because it was so damaged, he put up a wall in Sam’s head to keep all those horrible years, 180 Hell years, of memories of being tortured away. By that time, Cas had gone on this power trip, fighting another angel for control of Heaven. Lucifer and Michael were in the cage and Gabriel had died saving us. Raphael, the last archangel, wanted to control Heaven so he could get the apocalypse going again, but Cas wasn’t going to let that happen, so he was trying to tap into Purgatory to get souls to power up his bid for Heaven. We tried to stop him, but Cas had teamed up with Crowley, who you met, and they were a good few steps ahead of us.

“Cas distracted me and Bobby by pulling down Sam’s wall, which nearly killed him. We were so busy trying to save Sam that Cas was able to pull his power play and he sucked all of Purgatory into himself, including these leviathans, the oldest creations. Their only instinct is to eat humans, which is why they were locked up there in the first place. Cas played God for a while, smiting Raphael, people, other angels. Sam survived but his memories of Hell made him start hallucinating Lucifer 24/7.”

“Hallucinating?” Bruce spoke up, his concern for Sam’s welfare overriding the edict to hold questions. “What about him were you hallucinating? Memories?”

“Not always memories. There were some memories, like the chains clinking, the fire, the darkness. But mostly like Lucifer had escaped the cage and had just taken up residence inside my head. He never shut up, never let me sleep. Couldn’t eat because it’d suddenly be full of maggots. Things like that.” Sam said lifting his head to sit up a little, rolling his shoulders. Eyes followed his movements, some with horror, some with sympathy. Dean’s expression darkened for a moment before he continued.

“Yeah, that. Sam talked Cas into returning the souls, but the leviathans refused to go back. They exploded Cas and escaped, spreading and eating people like they were at a buffet. We went after their leader, Dick Roman. And yes, we mean the same billionaire business dude. Bobby, our pseudo dad, got killed by Dick. That’s why he became a vengeful spirit. In the meantime, Lucifer had turned Sam into a mental case. He wasn’t sleeping, couldn’t eat, twitched at everything. Ended up going for a midnight jog and ran into traffic. Got him stuck into a psych ward, where they were talking about surgery to ‘fix’ his brain. Shrink there said the eight days with no sleep and five with no food were going to kill him if they didn’t do something.” 

Sam said nothing, his gaze far away.

“While Sam was locked away, I found Cas, who had no clue how he was even alive, that he was an angel, or even who he was. Cas got his memory and mojo back just in time to help me save Sam. And you know, even while he was cuckoo for cocoa puffs, Sam still managed to gank a ghost and save another patient there.”

“Dean…” Sam muttered.

“Well, the demons inside tried to fry Sammy’s brains but Cas shifted the madness to himself. We eventually took out Dick, but Cas and I got sent to Purgatory, because we were too damn close when he kicked. After Dick was dead, the leviathans scattered, not having a boss to tell them what to do. We haven’t run into any more of them big mouths, but if you ever do, just throw some Borax on em and chop off their heads. But put the heads way away from the body, like in cement, cause those bastards can crawl back together and that’s creepy.

“When I finally escaped Purgatory and found Sam, we got Cas back, got Kevin, the new prophet, who translated the demon tablet and he gave us the Demon Trials, which I think at least Dr. Banner already knows about.” 

“Yes, I shared your story with them already.” Bruce replied.

“Let’s see.” He gestured to Sam. “Anything to add?” Sam coughed and held his head up. 

“Men of Letters,” Sam said quietly.

“Right, right,” Dean said, “a defunct group of men who gathered information on the supernatural and artifacts to fight them. They also sealed away dangerous cursed objects. Turns out, Henry, our grandpa, dad’s side, was running from Abaddon, the last knight of hell, who had killed the rest of the Men of Letters members. Henry used a blood-to-blood spell to find us through our closet and then died protecting us from her. So, as the last legacies, Sam and I are Men of Letters now.” He finished proudly. Tony was taking notes. “Now, questions?”

Clint raised his hand again.

“Yeah, dude,” Dean said.

“Multipart. One, demon blood? Two, how old were you both when you started actually killing? Three, you both died?” Dean hummed a second.

“Anyone possessed by a demon has tainted blood. Sulfur and other stuff, but mainly sulfur.” Tony and Bruce exchanged glances. “And the demon blood was fed to the psychic kids, so as they were still forming as infants, it became part of them. Once a person is no longer possessed, the demon blood eventually disappears. Not for the psychic kids though. And the more blood they drank, the more powerful they became.”

“So, Sam, you’re psychic?” Bruce interjected.

“Was,” Sam said, looking up tiredly. They could tell this was really draining him. “I haven’t had a vision or any powers since returning from Hell.”

“Hold up, demon blood as in real blood?” Tony blurted. Dean grimaced and looked sympathetically at his brother. Sam nodded stiffly.

“When I said that Azazel had infected me with demon blood, I meant that the demon bled into my mouth as an infant. And when I was with Ruby, I was literally slicing open demon veins and drinking it straight down.”

Now the Avengers all grimaced, eyeing Sam, who shrank back into the chair. Dean bristled watching his brother shrink into himself again.

“Listen, we’re giving you what you asked for, the ugly truth. We’ve both been manipulated and tortured. We lost loved ones and lived out of our car and crappy motel rooms for a most of our lives. Our dad was so messed up that I practically raised Sam by myself. Yes, he drank demon blood, but with good intentions. Not that it makes it right, but once he agreed to it, it was addictive and his withdrawals weren’t like regular DTs. He’d hallucinate, fly around the walls, being thrown by whatever he was seeing, be tortured by Hell in his mind. Once we finally gutted Ruby and got him out from under her thumb, he only touched the stuff one more time. When he had to down a few gallons to be able to hold Lucifer before his jump into the Cage.”

“Uh, two times,” Sam grunted. Dean looked at him.

“What?”

“When we split up and I was working at that bar. Tim and his friends came in on a hunt. They knew about the blood activating the powers. They forced some into me to get me to kill some demons for them. I still refused to do it.” Sam shifted uneasily in his chair.

“You never told me about that.”

“It was right before Detroit and Lucifer, so I didn’t think it really mattered at the time since I think I already knew at the time I probably wasn’t going to survive.” Sam cringed under Dean’s heated look.

“Remind me to look up Tim and his friends if we survive this,” he said with controlled venom in is his voice. Sam only nodded once.

Dean put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. 

“As for our first kills, I was eight. Vampire. Sam was 12. His was a wendigo. We’ve both died a lot of times.”

“Tuesday,” Sam shuddered quietly, his eyes unfocusing. Dean glanced over at him, Tony and Clint going on alert.

“If it were up to me, Sammy, we’d remove Tuesday from all damn the calendars,” Dean said in a comforting tone. “No more Asia either.” Sam blinked and nodded. His older brother saw the concern in the Avengers’ eyes. Tony took a deep breath and explained to the others.

“The panic attack this morning was because of the song playing when he was waking up.”

The older hunter elaborated.

“Gabriel, one of the archangels, locked us in a time loop. Every day was the same Tuesday and every day ended with me dying no matter what we did differently. Sam was the only one who remembered any of it. Hundreds of days, hundreds of me’s dead in different ways. Every day he woke up to that Asia song, ‘Heat of the Moment’. Gabriel thought he was teaching Sammy how to learn to let me go so that when I died by hellhound at the end of my deal, he’d be okay. But Sam out-stubborned him and he finally let Sam move on to Wednesday.” Several of the superheroes had their own unfocused looks as they tried to imagine being stuck in a nightmare like that.

“Both been to Hell and back. Both been shot, stabbed, you name it. We were killed by other hunters too. Sam, remind me to add Walt and Roy to that list with Tim. Oh, and I was a vampire for a short stint. Got cured. But we’re here, I guess, so that’s good. And Cas sorta got mostly sane again and regained his angel powers. Then Metatron got him.” Natasha spoke up once it got quiet.

“’Swan Song’ seems to be the last book in the published series and it has the Detroit incident and the battle at Stull Cemetery in it.” Her voice was emotionless and measured. “Why did the battle have to take place there?” Natasha asked. “The book said it was destined, but it never says why.” Dean looked over at his younger brother.

“It was right outside Lawrence, Kansas, where Dean and I were both born.” Sam replied tiredly. “Michael and Lucifer thought it was fitting that the beginning of the apocalypse should begin as close to the birthplace of their vessels. Chuck said that it would ‘end where it all began’.” Natasha nodded, also noting that Dean was the clearly defined leader, from whom Sam took his cues, which matched all of the reports.

Tony ahem’d to get their attention. Dean nodded to him.

“Sam, it seems you’re very intelligent. Even your brother just said you were brainy and really good at research. You got out of hunting and went to Stanford, had an exceptionally high LSAT score and then just walked away before doing the interview for law school? Why? You could have gotten it postponed, had counseling for the grief over your girlfriend and gone on to do great things.” He stared at Sam with confusion.

Sam laid his head back, eyes closed and gave a deep, stuttering sigh. Natasha made a mental note that Sam was also the more emotionally expressive of the two brothers, if only perhaps because his current physical state left him too drained to put any effort into controlling his reactions.

“I did think about it later, but I was too distressed at the time,” he said gently. “I’m pretty sure I would have gotten into law school and would have done decently well, but they made it personal. I didn’t know it then, but if I had known then what I know now, I would have avoided school altogether. Because it would have spared Brady and Jess from being killed. I would have stayed with my family and kept danger with us instead of taking it to outsiders. Just because it’s a certainty that I’m going to die, doesn’t mean I have to endanger others if I can avoid it.”

Tony’s face became contemplative.

“And the books?” Tony asked.

“All true for the most part,” Dean said. “Chuck said he did use some artistic license. When we met him, he’d only published up to my death by hellhounds and fall into Hell. Later he published more, up to Swan Song, which was Sam’s fall into the cage with Lucifer. We heard at a fan convention that he had put some more out after that, but we never found out how far he went before he disappeared. We figured he’s got to be dead because only one prophet can be active at a time and Kevin showed up as the new prophet while we were getting Cas from the mental hospital. High school kid, super smart, way too neurotic. But good guy. I think he was one of those kidnapping charges. We didn’t kidnap him, but his tiger mommy sure thought we did.” He laughed. “She is one bad ass woman.”

Steve lifted a hand and coughed.

“I think it’s time we address the charges. I’m assuming you have a reason for each of those charges that explains why you did what you did or why it wasn’t you.” Dean rubbed his hand over his face, sitting back, splaying his bowed legs under the table.

“Yeah, I knew we’d get to that,” he sighed. “You lay out the charges and I’ll do my best to explain.” Again, the older brother taking on all the responsibility, only turning to his sibling if it directly affected him or if he was the only one with a decent answer.

“First, the murders in St. Louis,” Steve listed the first serious charge. “The authorities stated that they killed you and had buried a body that they were convinced was yours.” Dean smirked.

“Shapeshifter. They can take on any human shape as long as they have an image to work with. They just knock the victims out and tie them up because he’s still got to be alive so the shifter can use his memories if he’s really trying to be convincing. They look, talk, and act almost just like the person they’re imitating. But if you catch them on camera, their eyes flare, like a cat’s in a flashlight. Bastard got the drop on me and then Sam. Had us both trussed up in a sewer while he went about murdering people wearing my face. The only way we could save those people was to put out an APB on myself while we hightailed it out of town. SWAT located him and blew him away. Sucked, but hey, they lived, right?” Steve and Clint took notes, exchanging glances.

“The credit card fraud, mail fraud, petty theft?” Steve listed off.

“Hunting don’t pay jack or squat,” Dean huffed. “We got no insurance, no meal allowances. Yeah, we used other people’s information to get credit cards or stole very small items when there was no other way. If you have the detailed statements and reports, you’ll see that we only stayed in the cheapest motels we could find, ate the cheapest food we could find, and only stole medical items to fix up our own injuries so we could survive to the next hunt. There was no splurging. People may not know what we do or that we’ve saved their lives, but we figure it’s a minor exchange. A little inconvenience from us to save a lot of inconvenience from being some monster’s food.” He shrugged.

“Auto theft?”

“There were a few times on that if Baby was out of commission or we split up.” There was an uncomfortable shift between both of the prisoners along with a disconsolate glance, but it passed with barely a pause. “We couldn’t rent a car and sometimes it was time critical. Get a vehicle and get to the spot where the beast was stalking its next victim. And we tried to always leave it to be recovered, with minimal damage and no trash. A few times we might have crashed it trying to chase or get away from something deadly, but most of those vehicles were recovered in good shape.” 

“Bank Robbery? More money issues?” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Ronald,” he said shaking his head, “We met this guy who was a conspiracy nut, but he helped us figure out it was a shifter that was killing people. He thought it was a ‘man-droid’ because of the ‘laser eyes’ he saw on a security camera feed. We got a lead it was pretending to be a bank teller or manager so me and Sam went in as techs to use the monitors-.”

“Looking for the eye flare?” Bruce asked. Dean nodded.

“Yep, but Ronald, the idiot, decided he had to take matters into his own hands. Sam and I had figured out who the shifter was hiding as, but before we could do anything, Ronald locked down the bank with chains and had a shotgun to hold all of them hostage until he could figure out who it was himself. He hated Sam but liked me, so I tried to get him to unlock the bank and let us deal with it. But it was too late. Silent alarm got tripped. Long story short, shifter made us, changed bodies, killed the doubles. FBI showed up, SWAT came. Ronald took a bullet from a sniper because he was too in the open. We found and killed the shifter right before SWAT charged in.”

“Reports said you overwhelmed two SWAT members and used their uniforms to walk out without suspicion,” Steve read off the report. Dean nodded.

“Sam’s last minute idea. Damn brilliant and it worked. It was a good thing they had a really tall SWAT guy or Sam wouldn’t have had a uniform. But again, we didn’t rob the bank or kill anyone except the shifter who had killed three others. Although we were blamed for all of it.”

“Grave desecration?” All of the Avengers wrinkled their faces up in disgust.

“Whoa, that’s easy to explain,” Dean said. “Ghosts, vengeful spirits can hurt people. They have no control over doing it as it’s the emotion controlling them, not the logic. Bobby was like that. He stayed after taking a bullet to the noggin so he could help us, even as a ghost, but he was so angry at Dick that he turned into a vengeful spirit, not realizing he was hurting other people who got in the way of his revenge. The only way to stop them is to burn the body. Thus, digging up corpses to salt and burn ‘em. Sometimes something has some of their DNA, like this one case we had with a killer kid as a ghost who was hanging around because of a doll that had been made out of her hair. Burned the doll with the hair and the ghost went poof. With Bobby, it was his flask that I had kept for sentimental reasons.”

“You addressed one of the kidnapping charges,” Steve said, pointing at the tablet in his hands, “but it looks like more than one.” Dean turned his hands palm up on the table, cuffs rattling against the wood.

“When you’re trying to contain a monster that looks human, you can’t just say ‘Hey, gonna take this guy out in the woods to shoot him because he’s a werewolf that’s eating human hearts.’ People don’t take kindly to that. So, we get accused of kidnapping and murder. We typically destroy the bodies in fire because of the ghost thing, and if we leave evidence, it could track back to us for the monsters to track us down before we can get them. And that’s where the assault and arson usually come in. Looks like we’re really evil bastards intent on just killing for fun, but I can tell ya, it’s as far from fun as you can get. Usually more painful and messy than anything.” 

Dean looked around the room. All of the tower residents had thoughtful expressions. Sam had his eyes closed, head forward on his chest. By the sound of his slow breathing, Dean guessed he was probably asleep, tired out after all the effort of sitting up and being alert. He was leaning forward slowly and would have face planted on the table if not for Dean’s quick hands against his chest. Sam flinched and coughed, his eyes popping open.

“I’m good,” he said, blinking tiredly.

“Uh, huh,” his brother muttered. He kept his hands against Sam’s chest even as his eyes began to droop again before falling closed.

“Well, I think it’s time we get Sam back to bed,” Bruce said standing up and pulling Sam’s shoulders back. Natasha jumped up to assist with the wheelchair but Clint motioned for her to return to her chair as he got up. 

“I got this. Keep talking, you can fill us in later.” Dean would have preferred to go back with Sam, but he felt their eyes on him so he stayed seated as Clint and Bruce rolled the still sleeping giant out of the room, Bruce keeping one arm on one of Sam’s shoulder to keep him leaning backwards in the chair, rather than falling forwards.

As soon as the door closed behind them, they all turned to look at Dean again. Tony was the first to speak, throwing an image up onto the transparent monitor over the table again. This one appeared to be an xray of a ribcage, but the ribs were all carved with strange symbols. Natasha and Steve gasped. 

“Stand up, Mr. Winchester,” Tony said standing up and coming around to him. Dean rolled his eyes and stood up, raising his arms because he knew what was coming as Tony came and lifted up both his flannel and the rock t-shirt to look at his chest and back. There were the usual gunshot and knife scars, but obviously not the extensive scarring that it would be required to display and carve ribs in that manner.

Tony grunted, running his hands over the heavily muscled torso, feeling for hidden scar tissue. Dean smirked.

“You know,” he snarked. “I don’t usually get felt up by guys, but I could make an exception for you.” Tony threw him an unamused look before huffing and stepping back.

“You said an angel carved those,” he said, pointing to the floating image. Dean dropped his shirts and returned to his seat.

“Cas did, yep. On me and Sam. It’s when the angels were trying to lock us up so they could force us to say ‘Yes’ to be meat puppets for Michael and Lucifer. These hide us from their radar. He used his angel powers to carve those there. We were awake and trust me, it hurt, but he did it with a touch. It was instant.”

“But there aren’t enough scars to explain how they got there.”

“What part of ‘angel powers’ don’t you get?” Dean asked, eyeing Tony with interest. “You don’t believe in anything but science, huh?” Tony crossed his arms.

“It’s all science,” Tony huffed. “Even what Thor does that we don’t understand is just science that we can’t understand yet.” Thor laughed, remembering this same discussion with Tony and Bruce many times.

“I don’t know,” Steve said slowly, “What happened to Clint and Dr. Selvig was definitely magic. And if there are really angels of the Lord, then certainly they’d be able to do things beyond our comprehension.” Tony rolled his eyes this time.

“No offense, Cap,” Tony said, “But I believe in hard proof. There’s no evidence of God with a capital G. I’m more inclined to think these angels are probably aliens on earth, like Thor.”

“I would not be disinclined, friend Tony, to believe that aliens could live here that have powers such as these.” Thor conceded. 

“What about the man you had in your trunk?” Steve asked Dean. Dean looked perturbed.

“Crowley? He ain’t no angel. He’s a demon. He was a crossroads demon before he got promoted after all the knights fell.” There were looks of confusion. “Crossroads demons are the ones that make the deals at the crossroads to give people things in exchange for their souls. And the knights of hell were like the first line of demons created, really strong. They ran Hell while Lucifer was in the cage.” 

“And Sam’s reaction to him?” asked Natasha.

“Not sure if anyone noticed but Crowley called Sam the ‘Boy King’. Because of the demon blood and Lucifer’s possession, Sam’s next in line to be King of Hell. Not that he wants that at all. During the trials, Crowley was contained but I guess when Sam saw him in the infirmary, he thought Crowley had gotten free and had come for revenge.”

“So, if Sam had ‘cured the demon’ in Crowley, wouldn’t that make Sam have to become the new king?” Steve postulated. Dean blinked as his mind went into overdrive.

“Huh. I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way, but Sam probably did. He was willing to die, even to become what he was afraid of to save the world. Again. But with Crowley free and back in power, not much will stop him now. And he’ll surround himself with more demons and power to keep me and Sam from being able to take him down again.”

The Avengers in the room digested this information. After each of them having seen Crowley burn out of the cuffs and vanish as he had, it was almost completely believable. 

“We’re still not sure what to make of you and Sam,” Steve said. “Clint has already read a few of those books and Tasha looked up a synopsis online that covered most of them. Most of it aligns with what you’ve both said. And there is compelling evidence that there’s more at work here than two psychotic serial killers.” Dean threw up his hands.

“Finally, damn!” He sighed loudly. Natasha shook her head.

“We’re not saying we believe you yet,” Steve replied. Dean stopped. “There’s evidence for both sides of this. Is there anything else that you can offer that might swing our opinion further?” They all stared at him. Tony, staring at him like an interesting bug, Steve and Natasha, like a pair of patient interrogators, Thor, like this was amusing. 

Dean bit the inside of his jaw, thinking. He looked back at the conference room door, contemplating Sam and his situation. He studied his hands as they all waited. Finally, he looked defeated.

“I need to talk to Sam the next time he wakes up,” he said softly. “But there might be something that might convince you.” Tony smirked.

*****

Bruce and Clint had gotten Sam back into the Infirmary with no issues. Getting him back into bed was not as easy as he was dead weight. Clint grunted a bit lifting him out of the chair to transfer him to the bed. Bruce was again reminded how tall the young man was as he was laid halfway across the archer’s back as he shifted him. When he was finally laid back on the pillows and reattached to the monitoring equipment, they looked down at him.

“Kid’s had a rough life,” Clint said quietly, going around to sit in the chair on the other side of the bed. “If we’re to believe their story.”

Bruce tilted his head at his friend. He knew his friend’s childhood had been brutal so him saying something like this felt heavy in his heart. 

“He’s also got a lot of self-worth issues going on,” he continued without preamble. “You’d think he was solely responsible for every bad thing in the universe. Loki didn’t think anything he did was bad. This guy feels bad for even being alive.” 

“He’s got a strong will though,” Bruce sighed as he plopped down on his stool by the computer. “Dean was right. It’s probably his stubbornness that’s kept him going through all this. Our formula just gave him the boost in the right direction.” 

Clint nodded thoughtfully but didn’t respond. He watched Sam sleeping very deeply, wondering just how close the story was compared to reality. If it was reality, then this guy had not only suffered nearly from birth, been used and abused, much like himself, but had also sacrificed himself to save the world from Hell on earth and been tortured well past a typically survivable limit. Clint would have been more surprised if he hadn’t had mental issues from just that.

Bruce had turned back to his notes and the readouts to follow up on Sam’s progress. He was also thinking deeply about what these brothers had said they had been through. It was easy to deny it as delusions but he, like most of the others, were beginning to realize there was just too much evidence for it to be all an elaborate psychopathic manipulation. 

It had only been a few days since he had met them, but his eyes had been opened to a mostly invisible side of life that he’d never given much thought to. There’d been Crowley. And he’d seen the rib carvings. Tony had sent him a message not long ago that he’d inspected Dean’s chest and back and there were no scars there to explain how they got onto his ribs. If they believed that Sam’s ribs were carved in the same manner as Dean’s, there was further evidence, as Sam also did not have extensive enough scarring to indicate how the ribs were carved so completely. He had plans to do new RIID scans on Sam and bloodwork on both the brothers to see how the changes had proceeded during the treatments. 

While Bruce was buried in his notes and data, Clint propped his feet on the side of Sam’s bed and let his chin drop, where his arms were crossed, as he sank into his own deep thoughts.

*****

It was sometime later before Dean was returned to the infirmary by Steve, Natasha, and Thor. Tony had gone down to the lab and was already on screen, working with Bruce to review notes and data.

Clint stood up as soon as they walked in, letting Dean take his spot next to his brother. Thor went over to stand at the foot of the bed, a silent watcher. Nat and Steve remained by the door and waited for Clint to join them so they could discuss their thoughts quietly. They filled him in on the part of the conversation with Dean for which he had not been there. He listened patiently, glancing back at the two men as new information was shared. His face was closed but all of them admitted they were beginning to wonder if what Dean and Sam had shared was really the truth and that the FBI criminal records were just the purely human perspective. They also shared Dean’s last statement, which did make Clint’s eyebrows go up. He wondered what last piece of evidence they could share that could possibly prove their story that hadn’t already been provided.

Dean was sitting quietly, head back and eyes closed, patiently waiting for Sam to once again awaken.


	7. Bunker Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers insist on going to the bunker.

It was a good hour after the sixth dose of treatment and stepped down painkiller that Sam blinked awake again. By now, all the Avengers except Clint, who was still on guard in the infirmary, and Tony, who was in the kitchen making coffee, were in their respective rooms, sleeping. Tony had opted to be the scientist/doctor on duty overnight. Dean had been talking to Clint quietly about Baby, discussing the many times she’d had to be rebuilt since she’d been his and how Bobby had always made sure to have spare parts that would fit her in his salvage yard, which was long gone after the house had been burned down and they’d had to abandon all of it.

“Uh, Dean?” Sam said, sitting up slowly. He realized that he wasn’t restrained but most likely because they didn’t view him as much of a threat as his brother because he was ill and still weak. He was determined to not piss off the Avengers if he could avoid it, if only to keep Dean from being injured if he tried to step in the middle.

Dean and Clint both stopped talking and came closer to the bed.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Dean teased him. He was much more relaxed now that Sam was not only looking much better, but it seemed the superheroes were almost on their side. Sam gave him bitchface #2, the ‘come on, dude, stop’ look. Any bitchface was an indication that his brother was feeling better. Dean smiled and ruffled the mop of bedhead that was Sam’s hair. Sam batted his hand away.

“Stop it,” he grunted. His stomach growled very loudly.

“Food or bathroom?” Dean asked. Bitchface #7.

“Hungry, but I’m not sure what I could keep down.” Clint nodded and asked Jarvis to let Tony know Sam was up and what he’d said. Sam’s eyes widened hearing Clint talking to the empty air and then getting a response back from a polite British voice.

“They’ll bring grub up soon,” he told them. Dean had noticed Sam’s first experience with the AI.

“Tony’s AI, Jarvis,” Dean said, pointing up with a beaming smile.

“He runs the Tower and keeps us all organized,” Clint smirked. Sam nodded in amazement before laying his head back down. “So, you took Lucifer for a ride, huh?” Sam closed his eyes and sighed. He was tired of rehashing all of his horrible history, but it had to be done.

“Yep, and he took me apart for a few centuries. All part of the cosmic balance,” Sam said sarcastically, raising one finger up to swirl it around as if to emphasize his point.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Clint was just nodding in understanding, which surprised him. He really expected them all to continue taking everything he and Dean said as delusional ramblings. Dean eyed Clint before turning all his attention to Sam.

“Sammy, we need to discuss the next step.” Dean paced away, then back again. Sam turned his head fully to watch his brother. “I think we need to take them to the bunker.” Sam’s eyes narrowed and his breath caught in his throat.

Dean then began one of those silent conversations with his brother like Clint and Nat typically had. There were amazingly a lot of emotions involved, mostly on Sam’s part, but Clint, like Nat, figured it was because he was still recovering that they were too close to the surface to hide. Sam went from fear all the way to grudging acceptance around the time Tony arrived with the food. 

For Dean and Clint, he had a pizza from Strumponi’s, down the block from the tower. For Sam, he had a green protein and vitamin shake, made by hand. Sam raised an eyebrow in question as he took it. Tony shrugged a shoulder.

“Did a little research on the stolen credit cards we found in your car and wallets. Found all those cheap, greasy diners and bars. If there were two meals, one was always a heart attack plate and the other was the extreme opposite, something much more health conscious. Which also jibed with what the police reports mentioned. And since Dean didn’t touch his salad the other day, it didn’t take much to guess who ate what. So, I took a gamble.” Tony waited for Sam to try it. “Lots of good stuff, vitamins and nutrients added in. Kale based with some mango for flavoring.”

Sam was surprised that it was really delicious, and his stomach didn’t protest too much.

“Thanks, it’s pretty good. The mango is something I haven’t tried before with a kale smoothie.” Tony looked very pleased with himself, sitting back on the stool Bruce had occupied earlier, but Tony rolled it up to the side of Sam’s bed and waited for Sam to drink it down.

“Ugh, you and rabbit food,” Dean shuddered as he and Clint sat on the edge of the other hospital bed, eating their pizza. Tony scoffed at Dean.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to try something besides greasy diner food,” Tony scowled. 

“You never know,” Sam snorted. “He’s lived on almost nothing besides greasy diner food. He might actually go into toxic shock if anything healthy entered his system.” Tony snorted with him. Even Clint laughed. Dean scowled this time.

“Shut it, Sasquatch. Remember I did eat all those fruit and raw veggies when Roman messed with my pie. Besides, all that rabbit food does is make you want to go running when regular people are still sleeping.” Sam snorted again and finished the shake, smiling gratefully at Tony as he took the metal drink container back and sat it on the table next to the computer.

“How are you feeling now, Sam?” Tony asked, glancing at the monitors. “Your vitals are doing pretty good and the painkillers are at an amazingly low level considering how bad you were three days ago.”

“It’s been three days?” Sam asked. “And no angel attacks or anything else we should worry about?” Tony shook his head, partly in answer, but mostly in amazement.

“I gave them demon and angel warding,” Dean said. Sam nodded.

“You know, you were nearly dead-,” Tony said.

“Again,” Dean muttered before his next bite of pizza. Sam glared at him.

“-nearly dead when you got here. It was a purely experimental treatment that probably shouldn’t have worked considering how nearly dead you were.” Tony pointed an accusing finger at Sam. “And every time you’ve woken up, it’s always been concern for everyone else, never for yourself. You are a walking miracle-.”

“Freak of nature,” Dean muttered again, smiling around the next mouthful of pizza at Sam, who ignored him this time. As did Tony.

“Maybe not walking yet, but still a miracle of science. Since you’ve been here, we’ve discovered that you’re a lot smarter than most people give you credit for and that you’re the heir apparent if anything happens to Thor.” Dean snorted, half choking on his current mouthful. Sam rolled his eyes at Dean so loudly that even Tony glared at Dean. “What I got to know is, which concussion (and yes, I did read the books and review all the medical records we could match to you two, and you have been hit in the head a lot), which concussion was it that damaged your brain and gave you the impression that you don’t matter?”

Dean and Clint both stopped chewing to stare at Sam and Tony at that question. Sam just swallowed and lay still, eyes staring at the wall. 

“Seriously,” Tony said, leaning forward on the railing. “I went through some shit myself after Afghanistan and it took shrinks, lots of money, and a damned metal suit of armor before I came close to finding myself again. And I know Clint and Natasha both think it’s their sole duty to save the world because of past misdeeds, but they’re coming around. Even Bruce has his complex about the crap he did before he learned to control the Green Guy. But do you honestly believe that as long as everyone else is okay, it doesn’t matter what happens to you?” Sam seemed to stop breathing.

They all waited, Dean swallowing what he had in his mouth, putting down the pizza. He wasn’t sure how his brother would react. Clint watched quietly, following Dean’s lead.

After nearly a full minute, Sam took a slow, deep breath and let it out, his body trembling just a little, but he brought it under control. He looked around to meet Dean’s eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t think I matter,” he finally said, softly, “I think I matter too much and it hurts people around me when I mess up.” Dean deflated a little.

“Sam-,” Dean started.

“And I mess up a lot,” Sam continued returning his eyes to the wall. “It’s not just forgetting to put the cap back on the toothpaste. It’s making a decision that changes other people’s lives too. The wrong decision, usually.”

“Sam-,” Dean said again, frowning deeply. Sam glanced at him sadly before continuing. 

“I always think I’m doing the right thing, then people die. I try to fix it or make up for it, but it’s like being in the cage with Lucifer. The pain goes on and on, either for me or for them. I’d rather it be me than them.” He looked down to where he fidgeted with his fingers in his lap. “When I think I’ve given all I can give, that it’s finally over, it starts all over again. Some new catastrophe, some new problem.” He heaved a breath, laying his head back on the pillow. “So, I keep going, giving everything I have, trying to do better, until the universe is done with me. Maybe then I can rest.” He shrugged self-consciously.

Tony and Clint shared a dark look as Dean sagged back and ran his hand over his face. 

“You, my friend,” Tony finally said while patting Sam’s shoulder, causing him to look over, “need a vacation at my house in Malibu. Sun, sand, hot girls, or guys, whatever boosts your rockets, all up and down the beach. Whatever you need to do to get away from your ‘universal onus’ for a week, maybe a month.” Sam smiled at him sadly.

“Thanks, but it doesn’t work that way. Not for us.”

“Sam’s right. There is no vacationing as a hunter. It’s live fighting or die trying.” Dean watched his brother. Sam was no longer tense, but the sadness was palpable. “We thought it was amazing when he left the hunting life to go to college but turned out it was just Azazel watching out for him, keeping him clear of anything except his demon babysitters until he was ready for him. Hunters don’t retire. They go out with in a rain of blood and noise.”

The subsequent quiet in the room was nearly overwhelming. Dean no longer had an appetite and pushed the pizza box away from himself, standing now and going to stare out of the window at the now dark city. Sam just lowered his eyes to his hands, quietly playing with the edges of the sheet covering him. Clint and Tony shared another look, actually more uncomfortable in the presence of these two men than they had been when they were first brought into the tower. Clint had also lost his appetite so he closed the pizza and picked it up to carry with him as he noticed the time.

Natasha, right on time for her shift at 10pm, stepped into the room, encountering the once again palpable unease in the room. For the first time in a long time, Clint was relieved to hand over the watch to her. He met her at the door and they shared information with whispers, gestures, and looks, finally both looking at the two men before going their own ways, Clint to the kitchen to put away the last of the pizza, and Natasha over to the chair next to Sam’s bed.

“Ah, the lovely Natasha,” Tony forced out as he saw her coming over. She nodded.

“Tony.”

Sam finally looked up and immediately smiled gently, obviously pleased to see her. He sat up a little higher and ran his hand through his hair to straighten it. Dean glanced at her reflection in the glass, otherwise not acknowledging her.

“Sam,” Natasha returned his smile as she sat. She leaned close and laid her hand against his arm. “How are you feeling?” Sam cleared his throat as he flushed pink across his cheeks and neck.

“Better,” he replied and shrugged. “Now that you’re here.” Dean glanced around with a smirk, as did Tony. Natasha laughed.

“Way to go, little brother,” Dean laughed himself as he turned to lean against the windowsill and watch his giant of a brother flirt with the red-haired agent. Sam instantly flushed a deeper red and sputtered.

“I…I didn’t…I mean…,” he stumbled over his words with wide eyes. Tony turned away to the computer, hiding his laughter from her. Natasha glared at Tony before turning her dark look onto Dean, who put his hands up in front in surrender, still smiling broadly. Sam stopped sputtering and also glared at Dean. “I wasn’t flirting,” Sam said after a breath. “I meant that she brightened up the room after all you guys have been hovering over me morosely. Natasha, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Now Natasha looked back at him and smiled, her eyes twinkling. She leaned back and crossed her legs easily.

“Now Sam,” she chuckled, “I wouldn’t have minded the flirting. It’s nice to hear either way. Between Tony and Clint, I get childish attitudes all day.” Tony gasped theatrically. She ignored him and continued. “I can tell your brother is going to be another one. Steve and Bruce are a bit too serious, and Thor is a giant baby in a cape. You are in a category all your own.” Sam smiled and ducked his head, his hair falling over his face a little.

By now, Dean was shaking his head in amusement at them both. He yawned and threw himself down on the bed closest to the window. He lay back, closing his eyes. Natasha began asking Sam questions about the books, about their lives after the books ended, and Sam tried to keep it to the lighter stories, like sharing the time Dean got ghost sickness and screamed with the chihuahua had chased him. He and Natasha both laughed softly over some of the stories, talking easily. 

Tony kept an ear on the stories as he was also interested in hearing this part of their history but pretended not to as it appeared Natasha was really the only one of them who could make the dark clouds dissipate around the far too introspective young man. Several times over the past few days, all of them had seen and felt the sadness and utter despair centered around Sam. They had all seen how Dean pulled him back from the darkness with love and care, putting Sam above everything else. Private messages passed between them all shared the opinion that honestly, as Thor had said, it had to be the skewed perspective of non-hunters that put the men into the crosshairs of law enforcement but they couldn’t tip their hand just yet. The lure of the upcoming visit to the illustrious ‘bunker’ was too great to release them outright as they would most likely slip away and again go underground given the chance.

Dean had fallen asleep to the soft murmurs and laughs between Sam and Natasha. It was refreshing and relaxing to not have the dark clouds looming over his younger brother, even if it was only when the secret agent was around. He didn’t even awaken when Sam had to ask in an embarrassed tone for assistance going to the restroom. Tony brought over a bedpan while Natasha retreated to the window and turned her back to give him privacy. Tony was as professional as he could be, not saying anything out loud, disposing of the contents in the attached bathroom as Nat returned to Sam’s bedside. She recommended that he get some rest and he agreed, thanking her for sitting and talking with him.

“Remind me to give you my number,” she said softly. He blinked and squinted in confusion.

“So I can call you from prison?” She winked at his question.

“I’d answer,” was her only answer. He finally smiled and settled back to rest, drifting off into a truly restful sleep for a few hours. 

Tony glanced over at them, watching both brothers sleeping peacefully, without worry lines or the drugged or exhausted slackness that had been present previously. He also stared at Natasha for a bit as she watched over the younger brother, a thoughtful half smile in place until he noticed that she was staring back at him with a cold look that made him tense and turn around.

Tony didn’t see her cold look changed to an amused one as soon as he turned away but she knew he was also smirking, thinking she didn’t know about it.

*****

The sun was tinting the indigo sky to a lighter shade when the others appeared in the room with breakfast. There were eggs, pancakes, and bacon for Tony and Dean, and another vitamin drink for Sam, this time made by Bruce, as well as a fruit bowl for Nat. Sam and Dean woke up as Bruce, Steve, Clint, and Thor came into the Infirmary. On the way up from the kitchen where they had eaten, they had conferred and with non-auditory communication from Tony and Nat on the tablets, they had all agreed that once they had been given access to the Men of Letters bunker and met the two mysterious friends, Kevin and Cas, they would let Sam and Dean off the proverbial hook. Upon entering the room with the subjects of that conversation, they tacitly changed subject. 

Thor walked directly over to Sam’s bedside, his typical smile beaming.

“Brother warriors,” he boomed. Sam couldn’t help but smile when his mood lightened, for which Dean was forever grateful. “Have you discussed this last great piece of proof to share so that we may end this nonsense?” He gestured at the cuffs still on Dean’s wrists. Dean nodded.

“Yep,” Dean replied, looking from Thor to Steve, “Once Sam is well enough to travel, we’ll take you to the Men of Letters bunker. It’s the safest place that we know of and has enough knowledge and artifacts that even if you don’t believe our former angel or prophet, you should believe us.”

“Excellent!” Thor said excitedly. “I am eager to meet your friends and fellow warriors.” Dean and Sam exchanged a nervous glance.

“Uh,” Dean said, “before you freak out, we do have a dungeon. But it’s for holding demons and other monsters.” Natasha was the one to raise an eyebrow at this revelation. Everyone else just seemed to wait quietly to let it sink in.

“So, this bunker? Is it hard to get to?” Steve said after a short quiet period. He looked at Bruce. “Do you think Sam can handle the travel?”

“Why not ask Sam?” Sam said with mild annoyance in his voice. Dean patted him on the arm to calm him down.

“Where are we going first?” Tony waggled his fingers over his tablet, waiting for a destination for route planning.

“Lebanon, Kansas. Center of the continental US,” Dean said. “Can I bring Baby?”

“I’ll drive,” Clint smiled hugely. Dean snorted.

“I drive, you can ride shotgun, where Sammy usually sits,” Dean told him. 

Steve held up a hand. “Let’s find out about Sam’s travel ability before we even plan this.” 

“I’m well enough to ride in the car.” Sam rolled his eyes. Steve shook his head.

“I’m sorry, but Clint and Dean will drive the car to the airport and bring it most of the way using Stark’s cargo jet.” Steve turned to Sam. “You’ll be with the rest of us on the Quinjet once we pack some supplies and get it fueled. You’re still healing and will need to be closer to Tony and Bruce so they can monitor your progress and apply any treatments still needed along the way.”

“Okay, route is plotted. Can you point out the bunker in the overhead?” Tony asked, leaning over with the map on the tablet. Dean leaned in to scroll the image until he got his bearings, then pulled it back until the woods outside of town appeared. From there he pointed out the barely hidden service road that led them to the bunker from the town and a clearing in the forest not too far from the main entrance. Tony marked the spot and sent the coordinates to Jarvis to share with everyone’s phones.

“Bruce? Sam?” Steve asked again. 

“Sam is fine,” Sam huffed, crossing his arms, looking like a petulant child. Natasha hid a smile behind her hand. Bruce reviewed the monitors and conferred with Tony for a quiet moment.

“He is doing really well,” Bruce reported. “His vitals are back to normal. The RIID is only picking up very trace amounts of the radiation at this point. Even his bloodwork has improved. The amount of sulfur and other elements has dropped significantly.”

“Wait,” Sam asked, confused, “I still have sulfur in my blood? But I thought all that had been cleaned out years ago when Cas brought me back.” Dean shrugged at him. Tony and Bruce shared a look.

“No, sorry,” Bruce continued. “You still have abnormally high levels of sulfur but they’re now much lower than before.”

“Huh,” Sam said to himself. 

“As long as Sam doesn’t do anything but sit or lay down in the jet, and allows us to monitor and continue treatments, he should be fine for this trip.”

Steve nodded.

“Okay, here’s how it going to happen,” Steve started laying out the plan. “Clint and Dean will take the car to the bunker using the cargo jet. Clint will drive and fly. How long will that take, Tony?” Dean shrugged.

“Given the slower jet and the location of the nearest landing strip, it’ll take them about 7 hours,” Tony said, and Natasha nodded.

“Clint, you and Nat collect all of their belongings that we confiscated and get it all back into the trunk. You guys can leave as soon as you’re packed up.” Clint two-finger saluted Steve.

“I’ll need my cell to call Kevin and Cas to let them know we’re alive and bringing home friends,” Dean interrupted him, “Don’t want them attacking you guys with any spells or weapons when we arrive. They’ll just be protecting the bunker.” Steve nodded to Clint.

“Nat will pilot the Quinjet, with Tony as backup. Bruce, Thor and I will remain in back with Sam. Everyone needs to pack for a few days. Include any weapons you think you might need and comms. Clint and Dean need to leave immediately so they arrive sooner rather than later. The rest of us have some time as it will take no more than…?” He looked at Tony.

“About two hours,” Tony said, understanding his question about the jet travel. Steve nodded.

“We’ll still arrive well before you two do so hopefully Sam will be enough to convince your friends into allowing us inside.” Steve looked from Dean to Sam. Sam shrugged and nodded. “Now, anything before we get this show on the road?” Sam held up a hand.

“Yes, Sam?” Steve asked. Sam grimaced but forged ahead.

“I’ve been in this bed, in these clothes for days now,” he said pleadingly. “Since we have time before we leave, can I get a shower and a change of clothes?” 

Steve looked towards Bruce and Tony for their opinions. They were both agreeable. Dean offered to run down and get some clean clothes from the car for his brother. He’d also bring one of the burner phones for Sam to use since his had been lost somewhere between the collapse at the church and the rescue at the hospital. Clint and Nat escorted him down, stopping by the detention area to gather up everything, including the desired cell phone before getting to the car. 

“Can you stand for a shower or will you need someone to assist?” Steve asked. Sam paused. He considered refusing all help, but he knew he was still weak and would just embarrass himself more if he had to call for help while naked in the bathroom.

“I’ll probably need a little help getting there, but if you have a chair I can use in the shower, I can bathe myself.” Bruce nodded and headed down to the lab to grab a waterproof stool that they used for certain tests while Tony removed the IV line, leaving the monitoring dots and IV port as they shouldn’t be affected by the water. 

Thor and Steve waited for Bruce to return with the chair before helping Sam out of the bed. He was still wobbly once he got to his feet, but he could walk very slowly, hunched over, with Thor on one side and Steve on the other. Bruce ran the stool into the bathroom attached to the infirmary, placing it in the small shower stall, and pulled out a towel and washcloth for him to use, laying those aside. 

By the time Sam and his entourage had reached the bathroom, Nat and Dean had returned with Sam’s backpack, where Dean pulled out a clean pair of blue jeans, black boxer briefs, and a dark gray tshirt. He laid a pair of socks on the foot of the bed and then cursed under his breath when he realized they had left Sam’s shoes at the hospital. Guess it couldn’t be helped. Sam would have to go barefoot. He also laid one of the burner phones at the foot of the bed. All of them had been programmed with the number for the bunker, so communication wouldn’t be an issue. Clint had gone to his room to pack his bag, stating he’d return to get Dean once he was ready to head out.

Sam was still in the shower, taking deep breaths, finally alone and beginning to feel better after weeks of feeling like he was slowly falling apart atom by atom. While he was able to sit and bathe himself without trouble, he felt the weakness in his limbs, knowing it would be several days before he could probably walk without someone there to hold his weight. It was bad enough that he and Dean were infamous in their own right, but now they were being held prisoner by the world’s best of the good guys. He had been unconscious for most of the last few days, but he marveled at how Dean seemed almost to be friends with several of them, in spite of having to wear handcuffs and being guarded 24/7.

With the exception Steve, who was always prepared and already had a bag packed for up to a week with all essentials that waited in his closet, everyone else was packing bags for the trip. All he would need would be a minute to step into his rooms to retrieve it on the way to the jet. Steve and Dean were waiting outside the bathroom door to help Sam once he finished in the shower when Natasha rejoined them, dropping her go bag by the door. Steve was not expecting at that same moment for the bathroom door to open only a crack so that Sam’s head appeared from a small burst of hot water vapor.

“Um, excuse me,” Sam said, looking around the room without exposing anything but his face. He spied Natasha and blushed, then Steve. He didn’t notice Dean on the other side of Steve. “Um, Captain Rogers, can you hand me my clothes, please? I’m not comfortable getting dressed in front of an audience.” Steve smiled and brought Sam’s clothes over to hand them through the door, reminding him to not try to do too much without assistance. Sam took them with an embarrassed smile. Natasha nearly laughed out loud at how shy Sam appeared to be.

“I guess there are other old-fashioned guys like you,” Natasha told Steve once the door was closed. Steve gave her his own smiling bitchface. 

“Unless he’s angry, Sam’s never been anything but polite, gentle, and sensitive,” Dean smiled, coming to stand by Steve. “Must have been all that reading he did since he was little.” Steve smiled too.

“What about you?” Natasha asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“I’m definitely not like Sammy,” he smirked. “Including the reading part.”

“What about when he’s angry?” Steve asked. Dean’s face drew down in a thoughtful frown but his only reply was-

“Then he channels our dad and that’s downright dangerous.”

A few minutes later, the door opened slowly, Sam having to stumble backwards a little to pull it fully open. Gone was the shapeless institution garb. His hair was now sleeked with the water, swept away from his stubble covered face. Steve immediately stepped forward, pulling one of his arms around his shoulders, taking part of Sam’s weight and helping keep steady as he shuffled barefoot back to the bed. 

Dean stepped forward to assist. He rushed over to help Steve with Sam, although Sam appeared less shaky than before, and with Dean’s hands still handcuffed, he couldn’t do much more than offer his shoulder for Sam to use as leverage.

“Thank you, Captain Rogers.” Sam smiled gently. “And you, Dean.”

“It’s Steve,” Steve said, leaning sideways to ease Sam down so he could sit on the side of the bed. Sam blinked at him, nodding. Dean grunted softly.

Once Sam was sitting back in the bed, leaning forward carefully to pull on his socks, Bruce hustled with putting together a medical bag with all the treatments, painkillers, and other possible necessities for the trip, with Steve aiding him. Sam was looking around for his shoes.

“Did you forget to leave my shoes?” he asked Dean. Bruce and Steve looked around the floor.

“No,” his brother said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “I think we left them at the hospital during the attack. And honestly, I don’t think anyone of the guys here wear your size.” Natasha watched Sam give an exasperated sigh, then look down and wiggle his socked toes.

“Huh. Could be worse,” he muttered, before he smiled up her shyly. Steve and Bruce smiled at each other before going back to what they were doing. Natasha came over to sit by him. He smiled, watching her.

“In the books,” she states, looking up at him with curiosity, “You and Dean disagree a lot.” Sam glances down, wondering where this is going, before returning her curious look. “I know you’re real life siblings, but even after all that you say you’ve been through, you’re still both very close and protective of each other.” Sam’s eyes softened and he smiled brighter. Dean had the same smile where he stood by the foot of the bed.

“I think it’s because of what we’ve been through that we are so close.” Sam was thoughtful before answering. “We’ve fought. We’ve split up. Hell, we’ve died for each other. But we’re all each other has. Mom, Dad, Bobby, Jess, Ellen, Jo, anyone we got close to, have all died. We’ve both been to Hell and to Heaven. We’ve both been hunted by monsters, demons, even other hunters before. We only have each other to rely on. He was my conscience when I didn’t have a soul. I’ve saved his life a few times when there was no one else there for him. But it always comes back to the fact that we’re just better together. We need each other to stay sane, to stay safe.” Natasha chewed her own lower inner lip and thought about that. Dean crossed over to fluff his brother’s long hair up with a playful noogie.

“It’s more than a partnership, it’s family.” Dean wrapped his arm around Sam’s shoulder and hugged him gently before letting him go.

She smiled softly and looked at Bruce and Steve. Sam figured she was thinking of the others as her family and understood. When Tony came in, dragging a large bag and a metal suitcase that looked like the same metal the Iron Man suit was made of, he grunted as he saw Sam and Natasha sitting on the bed next to each other, smiling.

“What are you kids up to?” he asked them, sitting his items gingerly in the growing pile. Natasha smirked when she saw Sam blush and duck his head out of the corner of her eye. It was amusing that this giant of a man blushed any time he felt uncomfortable, especially around her. She had watched him closely and knew that he was very lean but muscular, broad shoulders and narrow hips, with an intellect that had peaked Tony and Bruce’s interest. To be such a gentle man and emotionally sensitive after everything the books said he had gone through, he had to be speaking the truth about how much he and Dean relied on each other for strength. The books had talked about how Dean, as the older brother, had been brother, mother, and mostly father for Sam growing up because of their history and isolation. Dean had done a very good job, in her opinion. She winked at Dean over Sam’s bowed head before replying to Tony.

“Talking about how fun it would be to have a threesome with you,” Natasha growled softly, sliding her hand over Sam’s on the bed beside her. Tony swallowed and jerked to a halt, eyes going from her to Sam and back again. Dean had frozen in mid-step. She felt Sam briefly become tense next to her, his breath freezing in his throat. She could guess that he was probably staring at the back of her head with his kaleidoscope colored eyes. But it was pleasing when she suddenly felt him relax and start to laugh. It was a good, honest laugh, a belly laugh that shook the bed, his hand turning in hers to squeeze it gently. He lifted her hand to brush her knuckles against his lips. When Tony’s mouth dropped open in shock, she began to laugh too, looking over at Sam. He had realized she was joking and ran with it. Dean made a noise and snorted a little. 

“Guys,” Bruce said with a grimace. “Nat, quit teasing Tony and go find out what’s keeping Thor.” He chuckled. “He owns what, three outfits? It shouldn’t be taking him this long to pack a bag.”

Natasha smiled at Sam, watching him release her hand to wipe a tear of laughter from his eyes. His laughter was tapering off and Tony was beginning to give her one of those looks where he wanted to say something but was just afraid of her enough not to tempt a retaliation injury. She slipped off the bed, patted Tony’s shoulder and headed to Thor’s room, taking Dean with her to drop him off with Clint. Dean could do no more than chuckle and shake his head at Sam as he let her lead him out. Sam was scowling in the realization that Dean had heard and seen that. Tony turned his head to watch them go, before turning back to Sam. He pointed at him.

“You may be feeling better,” Tony admonished him, “but don’t encourage her. We have enough hijinks with Barton in the tower. And I’ve seen how she looks at you.” Sam’s smile faded in surprise, his face going red. Tony chuckled then. “I used to think she and Clint were a thing, with their weird closeness, and being super-secret spy buddies – slash – master assassins, but she’s definitely giving you a much more intimate once or twice over than she ever has him.”

Steve and Bruce were smiling broadly now, putting the bags of medicines and equipment in the pile. Sam was beet red and his mouth was opening and closing like he was trying to talk but couldn’t decide on which sound to start with. Tony patted his knee as he sat back down on the rolling stool next to the bed.

“No shoes?” he asked, looking down at Sam’s sock covered toes. Sam wiggled them again, looking down at them himself.

“Dean left them at the hospital in the rush,” Steve supplied. Tony nodded sympathetically.

“I don’t have any shoes here that will fit you, but we have time and I can definitely afford to stop and buy you some on the way.” Tony leaned back, laying his entwined fingers across his middle.

“N-no, really,” Sam said quickly, “Don’t go through any trouble. I have several pairs at the bunker, and I don’t think I’ll be doing too much walking between here and there.” Sam stuttered in protest. He didn’t like the thought of Tony Stark spending money on him.

“Hmm, if you say so. Wheelchair it is, then,” Tony said with a smug smile. Sam sighed.

Natasha returned a few moments later with Thor in tow, his bag and Mjolnir laid next to the others’ luggage. Steve handed out comms to the Avengers and then contacted Clint through them. Sam could only hear this side of the conversation, but he understood that Clint and Dean were just leaving the Tower and were heading to Stark’s airstrip where the cargo jet waited. Steve asked about Dean’s call to the bunker and then there was quiet as they all listened. Sam just waited for them to convey what they would. Steve signed off with Clint before turning to Sam.

“Dean called the bunker and spoke to your friend, Cas. He told them what is going on and that we would arrive in a few hours. Dean said that Cas and Kevin agreed to stand down as long as you were both safe and treated fairly. But Dean also said that it would be up to you to sooth the ‘ruffled feathers and teenage nerves’ when we arrive. Cas wanted to convey how happy he was that you had turned Death down.” Steve watched Sam. Sam smiled and ran a hand through his drying hair. “Unfortunately, because we’re leaving the building and you’re regaining your strength, I’m going to have to insist you be handcuffed until further notice.”

Like his brother, Sam put up no resistance and only asked to be allowed to get situated in the wheelchair before being cuffed, to lessen the inconvenience on them all. Thor became agitated but Sam told him he was okay with it, his calm demeanor settling Thor’s anger. Bruce also insisted on leaving the IV port in so he could administer the next doses of painkillers. Thor and Steve got Sam into the wheelchair with less trouble as he was definitely steadier now. Bruce inserted the needle into his vein with the seventh treatment, following by the painkiller in the reset IV. Steve slipped the cuffs onto Sam, being careful not to disturb the port. Sam yawned widely, not realizing how tired he was already, thinking the hot shower had really relaxed him.

It was time to leave now that everyone was ready. Natasha patted Sam’s shoulder before heading to the roof to fuel and power up the jet, carrying her own bag. Thor, Steve, and Tony carried the rest of the bags up, Bruce following behind with Sam in the wheelchair. It took two elevator trips for all of it but finally they were all on the roof. It was a beautiful morning in the city, the sun having been up a few hours. The jet ramp was down and Sam got his first look at the sleek aircraft as he was pushed inside. He grimaced a little as he thought about what Dean had gone through having to fly in it from the hospital and how he was going to handle flying in the cargo jet with Clint and the impala, not knowing that Dean had been so worried about him in the first flight from the hospital that he hadn’t had time to be afraid and now, had no fear of flying as long as it was one of the Stark jets.

Bruce explained to him that the wheelchair couldn’t be secured as much as he’d like so they’d switch him over to the seat next to Bruce and strap him in. The chair would be folded and stored with the luggage. Nat was in the pilot seat and Tony joined her as copilot after storing his carry-ons. Thor shifted Sam to a regular seat and Bruce secured the seatbelts. Steve finished securing the luggage and the wheelchair before closing the ramp.

“Okay, Romanoff,” Steve said as he took his own seat and strapped in. “We’re good to go.” Natasha gave a thumbs up over the back of the seat before she returned to the controls. The jet rumbled gently as it lifted off. 

Sam realized he was getting very tired and felt his head nodding forward. He heard Tony talking to the mysterious Jarvis again, something about securing the tower and alerting Happy and Pepper about the trip, but knew he was going to be asleep before he could hear more. His head dropped onto his chest and he slipped into slumber, his hair falling over his face. Bruce smiled at Steve.

“Good call on upping that painkiller shot to act as a sedative,” Bruce said. “He still needs to rest and I get the feeling that he’ll do anything except that once we get to their hideout.” Steve nodded, watching the young man in their midst. Clint probably had the hardest job of them all right now.

*****

A few minutes from the airstrip, Clint had stopped for gas for the classic muscle car. He had handcuffed Dean to the passenger door so he could go inside and pay for it. On Tony’s card, of course. He also opted to get them drinks and snacks. Dean had huffed indignantly that Clint still didn’t trust him. Dean wasn’t really upset because he could slip the cuffs easily. He could also hotwire Baby and haul ass out of there, but they still had Sam in custody, and he wouldn’t risk antagonizing them while Sam was still a prisoner. 

This gas station had a very old, very dusty cassette tape rack near the register. Clint smirked when he found a few country classics hidden amongst the 80’s hair band tapes. He bought those too, smiling to himself that Dean would probably lose his mind once he popped one of those into the car’s deck. Dean had already griped and moaned about Clint touching his cassettes at all. Fine. Clint wouldn’t touch ‘his’ cassettes anymore. He carried the bag out to the car, depositing it in the front seat between himself and his passenger. 

“About damn time,” Dean said, leaning back, crossing his arms with a smirk. Clint immediately saw the cuffs dangling from the passenger side door handle. He narrowed his eyes at him, but let it go and started the car. Dean smiled in victory before starting to dig through the bag.

“Don’t make me regret this, Winchester,” Clint said, giving him the side-eye as he pulled back out onto the road. Dean just shook his head, pulling out two bottles of water, handing one to Clint.

“Dude, like I said, you ain’t got anything to worry about from me and Sam. Especially while he’s still recovering and somewhere overhead with the rest of your posse.” Dean dug deeper and pulled out one of the country cassettes. He frowned, holding it up. “What the hell is this?” Clint laughed, snatching it from his fingers.

“This,” Clint said with reverence, “is country. True music of the soul.” Dean drew a face of utter disgust.

“Nah, ain’t happening,” Dean shook his head. “Not in my Baby.” Clint unwrapped the dusty cellophane from the tape and removed it from the plastic case. He held it up, daring Dean to make a move.

“Yes, it is, Dean,” Clint said with a dark smile. “Or you can ride in the trunk.” Dean grunted angrily, throwing his hands up in defeat.

“Fine,” he muttered. “play your stupid country crap but don’t expect me to be happy about it. You got no taste in music.” He slumped down in the seat, crossing his arms. Clint smirked before slotting the first cassette into the deck, turning up the volume as he slid back into traffic.

Johnny Cash’s ‘Ring of Fire’ came to life inside the car and Clint sighed in happiness. Dean gave him the side eye before letting one side of his mouth quirk up in a half smile. He never would have taken the Avenger for a country fan, but at least it was the classic country and not the modern stuff he heard in most of the dive bars he frequented. Clint caught the half smile and laughed quietly, pressing harder on the gas pedal. Dean let his arms fall to a more relaxed position. This might not be that bad of a trip after all.


	8. Arrival at the Bunker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Clint drive Baby. Sam arrives at the bunker with the rest of the Avengers.

“Didn’t really think this through, did we?” Tony stomped back up the jet ramp to glare between Steve and Bruce. Bruce was sitting in the jet next to the still slumbering Sam, taking his vitals manually. Steve was leaning against a fallen tree near the jet in the clearing where Natasha had put them down. Thor was standing further into the clearing, looking up at the bright Kansas sky. Natasha was sitting on the other side of Sam, glaring back at Tony.

“Tony,” Steve said, shifting roughly against the tree, “Bruce and I agreed that it would best if he could sleep through the flight so he’d be alert when he brought us into their home and their friends wouldn’t be as worried if he looked rested and healthy.” Tony gestured with his arm at Sam while giving Steve his best ‘are you serious?’ face.

“Does he look alert and healthy?” Tony argued. “How much did you give him?” Bruce finally looked up at Tony.

“It’s my fault. I thought he’d rest better if he was fully under and not fighting it. I gave him a little more than necessary so it’s taking longer to come out of it.” Tony sputtered at Bruce’s explanation. Natasha stepped between the science bros.

“Just calm down,” she said with a frown. “Bruce, how much longer before he’s awake and alert?” Bruce pulled off his glasses and looked up at the ceiling in thought.

“I’d give him another half hour before he comes around. Another 30 minutes after that before he’s fully alert.” Thor walked back towards them.

“Is this chair with wheels going to be able to pass this way?” he asked gesturing at the forest floor, strewn with leaf litter, fallen limbs, and stray roots and bushes. All of them glanced to where he was pointing before looking back at Bruce. Tony rolled his eyes.

“So, I guess we didn’t think this through,” Bruce mumbled and shrugged. 

“Tasha, can you scout ahead for the best path and stay out of sight for now?” Steve asked. Nat nodded and trotted down the jet ramp to disappear through the forest towards where Dean had indicated the bunker lay. Tony plopped onto his ass there on the jet ramp, laying his arms across his knees. 

“I bet Clint’s ready to kill Dean by now.” Tony mused to himself with a smile. 

*****

“What are you talking about?” Clint laughed, glancing over at where Dean sat in the co-pilot’s chair, stuffing his face with another bite of the apple fruit pie they’d grabbed from the vending machine in the hanger. Because of course, Tony had a vending machine with pie in it in a hangar that no one used but him. 

“All I’m saying,” Dean sprayed apple fruit pie crumbs towards Clint, who fended them off with his right hand as he pushed the throttle forward, “is that if Hulk went against Superman, it’d be no contest.”

“You do know Superman is fictional, right?”

“But still…,” Dean swallowed and pointed his plastic fork at Clint. “Superman can rewind time. Hulk is just really strong.”

“I’ve fought beside Hulk,” Clint said. “If I ever run into Superman, I’ll be sure to ask him to spare my friend.” He rolled his eyes.

Dean chuckled, digging deeper into the pie.

“Next break, switch and let me fly.” Clint gave him an incredulous look.

“You do realize you’re still a prisoner, right?” Dean stopped chewing and blinked like he had actually forgotten. Then he tilted his head sideways with a partial shrug and went back to eating.

*****

Natasha had returned with news that about a quarter mile through the forest took them to the hard-packed service road, and another quarter of a mile took them to the recessed door of the bunker, down a few stairs. She reported that she didn’t think she’d been seen but it appeared deserted and not really that secure. But underground warehouses tended to be more security heavy than above ground ones in her experience.

Tony was happier now that Sam had begun to show signs of awakening, but he was eager to get moving. Now that Tasha was back and he had the intel she had gathered, Steve was ready with a gameplan.

“We’ll secure the jet here with the baggage inside. Thor, you’ll need to carry Sam to the bunker. Tony can carry his suit. Bruce will have his medical bag. I’ll be on guard for our approach with Tasha.” Everyone was listening patiently. “Once we get close enough, we’ll help Sam walk into the bunker so he can show his friends that he’s not harmed. Once the door is open, I’ll go in first. Thor, you come in with Sam. Natasha will be close behind you both. Tony and Bruce will be last.” Tony was now standing, one arm wrapped around his middle, the other one bent, hand holding his chin thoughtfully.

“Right, so they see good old Captain America first, then their friend and another familiar, well known face. Sexy spy girl will be the next distraction.” Natasha was used to Tony’s obvious jibes about her use of her body as a tool in battle. She just grunted lightly. “Since I’ll be out of the suit unless they appear hostile to Cap, Bruce and I need to hang to the back as the backup.”

“Exactly. Now, how’s Sam doing?” Steve looked to Bruce, where he still sat next to the young man, who was now lifting his head and looking around blearily.

“Should be good to go soon.” Bruce gave a thumbs up to Steve before pulling out his penlight to check Sam’s pupils for reactivity. “Sam? It’s Bruce.” Sam blinked and tried to focus on him.

“Wha-?” Sam said softly, confusion on his face. He knew he’d fallen asleep, but he felt too heavy and fuzzy upon awakening this time for it to be anything other than drugs. He saw Bruce give an apologetic smile.

“We figured you’d do better resting, than being nervous for the whole trip, so I gave you something to help you sleep in your last dosage. I think it was a just a little more than I meant to give you. Sorry.” Bruce watched Sam’s confusion give way to understanding. He was still shaky and fuzzy, but he now appeared to be alert enough to know what was going on.

“We landed?” Sam asked, seeing the forest through the jetway entrance.

“Yep, about an hour ago,” Bruce said. “I have to tell you this and I know you’re not going to like it. But the wheelchair isn’t going to make it through the forest litter, so Thor is going to have to carry you until we get to the bunker.” He saw Sam begin to protest but held up a hand. “You don’t have any shoes on and it’s only about a half of a mile or so, according to Natasha. Do you think you’ll be able to walk with assistance once we get to the bunker? Steve thinks that if your friends see you up walking and alert, they’ll be more inclined to cooperate.”

Sam thought about that before huffing out a sigh.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll already never hear the end of it from Dean about being carried around like a damsel in distress. And there are lots of steps and narrow doorways in the bunker so not sure how useful the wheelchair would be there anyway.” Bruce laughed, calling Thor over to help him with Sam. They released the seatbelts, while the others were securing weapons and other fast carry items for this first foray. 

Sam stood up with some assistance from Thor, it being more difficult this time with the handcuffs not allowing the full use of his arms. Sam still showed some weakness but required no direct help to walk to the end of the jet ramp. He only swayed once, but Thor and Bruce were there at his elbows to steady him. Sam stood himself nearly to his full height, top of his head bowed to keep from brushing the inside ceiling of the jet. He took in the sight of the quiet forest, knowing his and Dean’s last sanctuary was about to be disclosed. He took some deep breaths, settling himself, then nodded at Thor. 

Thor immediately swept him up in a bridal carry, Sam’s handcuffed hands staying rigidly in front of his own chest. Sam made a noise of embarrassment at the manhandling but knew he had no choice. Thor strode out into the clearing with his cargo, Mjolnir hooked to his belt where it swung against his side with each step. Steve and Natasha strode out behind him, Widow smiling at Sam’s look of embarrassment over Thor’s shoulder. Tony followed, carrying the metal case that was his Iron Man suit. Bruce was last, his medical bag in one hand, his other hand securing the ramp and locking the jet from anyone who might stumble across it.

“Clint,” Steve said into his comm, “We’re leaving the jet now. How are things on your end?”

*****

Clint was still smiling as Dean rambled on about some of the stuff he and Sam used to do as kids. When the comm came to life in his ear with Cap’s voice, he held up a hand to stop Dean from continuing, before replying. Dean froze mid word when Clint’s hand came up. It was a command, not brooking any rebellion.

“Roger that, Rogers,” Clint said suddenly with a playful smirk, knowing it annoyed Steve. It took a moment for Dean to realize he had to be talking to the other Avengers on his earpiece thing. “No trouble on this end. ETA is 4 hours, 23 minutes.” Clint went quiet again for a moment. “Got it. Keep me posted.” Clint dropped his hand.

“They have left the jet and are heading to the bunker. You might want to call your friend and give them a heads up. They’re only about 5-10 minutes out.” Clint glanced over at Dean, seeing that he was now sitting up and tense, all business as he dialed the cell.

After a few rings it was answered. Dean put it on speakerphone.

“Dean,” the gravelly voice answered. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Cas. Look I’m still almost 5 hours away but Sam is there with the rest of the Avengers. They’ll be at the door in like 10 minutes. Remember what I said. They aren’t looking to cause trouble, just to get proof that Sam and I are who we say we are and that we aren’t serial killers.” Dean was staring at the phone with a very serious expression, like he was trying to telepathically link through it to the other end.

“Dean, we, Kevin and I, trust you and Sam to make the right decision. But are you sure this is the only way?”

“Cas, I told you. This is the last thing we’d really want to do, especially exposing you guys to more of this madness, but these people are good guys, okay?”

“I understand. And I’m sorry to add to your predicament.” The voice sounded sad. Dean closed his eyes.

“Cas, man, you didn’t know what he was going to do. Don’t do that blame crap like Sam. Just trust me when I tell you that I’m not angry and that I’m just happy you’re okay and there with Kevin.”

“I-,” the voice began, but then there was a heavy booming through the phone. “I think they’re here. Dean, I have to go now.” And the phone disconnected.

Dean wearily clicked the flip phone closed and leaned back to stare out the passenger window. Clint took in his sudden disquiet and sadness. He was worried for his friends and for his brother. The archer felt for him.


	9. Bunker is Breached

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Kevin welcome Sam home. Clint and Dean discover a link.

“Um, who’s there?” a young-ish voice said from the other side of the door. Cap had knocked on the door while Thor helped Sam to stand at the bottom of the handful of steps to where he waited. Sam smiled a little.

“Kevin, it’s Sam. I’m here with the Avengers. Let us in,” Sam replied loudly. There was a moment where nothing happened while Sam swayed slightly against Thor. Steve was about to suggest that Sam try again, when he heard a metal bolt slide, some clanking, and more metal grinding. Then the door slid open with a loud groan into a dimly lit area. 

“Kevin? Cas?” Sam called into the opening.

“Kevin, get back down here,” a gravelly voice called and an Asian teenager who had apparently opened the door scurried backwards on bare feet and ran down the metal steps into the main room. Steve pushed the door further open and stepped inside onto the landing. He looked down into the muted room. Most of what he could see looked to be from his era. And it seemed operational. In the main room with what appeared to be a lighted map as a tabletop, there were two men standing and watching them warily. The first was a very nervous and agitated young Asian man. The second was a dark-haired man wearing a tan trenchcoat over a cheap business suit with the tie askew. This man was giving Steve a neutral look that could have been a scowl.

Steve lifted a hand and Sam came through the door, walking over to lean on the railing to look down on them. Thor was directly beside him, strong hand on Sam’s bicep. The instant they saw him at the railing, they stood up straighter and smiled brightly.

“Sam!” the young one said. Sam lit up too with his own relieved smile.

“Kevin, good to see you, man. You too Cas.” He lifted a hand to wave encouragement. Cas and Kevin caught sight of the handcuffs and both of them frowned. “Guys! It’s okay. Just listen. As soon as we can provide proof, it won’t be a problem anymore. Just relax for now. We’re coming down.”

Kevin fidgeted, but Cas put a hand on his shoulder and quietly talked to him. He had him wait patiently beside him at the library table until everyone could come in.

Captain America came down the stairs first, carrying his shield loosely by his side. Thor, the thunder god, pulled Sam’s arms around his neck and took most of Sam’s weight as he came down the metal staircase wearing no shoes and stumbling a little. Next was a super sexy redhead in a skintight leather suit. Kevin gaped openly at her without blinking. Tony followed carrying a strange case and last but not least, was Bruce, carrying his medical bag. 

Cas walked up to where they now stood at the bottom of the staircase in the war room. Thor removed Sam’s arms from around his neck but kept an arm around Sam’s waist for him to lean on. Cas scowled at Steve as he walked past him to wrap his arms around Sam’s shoulders. Thor stepped back, his hand still out to keep Sam steady. Everyone looked stunned at Cas’ boldness. Sam’s cuffed hands were trapped between them, but he leaned into the hug, nearly falling over onto him.

“Sam, I’m so happy to see you alive,” The trenchcoated man said, hugging tightly. Sam grunted softly.

“You too, Cas. And Dean’s right, you didn’t know Metatron would do that to you.” Cas pulled back and looked up at Sam with gratitude in his eyes.

“As always, you are forgiving of the faults in others. But I’ll do my best to fix this. Now, come, sit. I no longer have my grace or my strength to be able to pick you up as easily as before.” Cas held Sam’s shoulders for a moment before tugging him away from an amused Thor. He had moved them both past Steve and was heading for one of the chairs around the large table in the library area when Kevin darted forward and hugged Sam’s middle. He lay his head on Sam’s chest and sighed deeply. Sam was only able to half hug the young man.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Kevin said. “It was scary when the bunker locked down.” He stepped back in nervousness. 

“Locked down?” Sam asked tilting his head. Kevin and Cas glanced at the strangers in their midst briefly, then helped ease Sam down into one of the rolling chairs.

“Yeah,” Kevin said in a rush. “It locked down like four days ago, only emergency power, I couldn’t even open the door from the inside, and the map table lit up like a Christmas tree. I was freaking out, man. When Castiel arrived, him opening the door from the outside must have released it or something, because everything was working again.”

“Kevin shot at me,” Cas said matter-of-factly. “With a crossbow. He missed.”

“Like I said, I was freaking out.” 

Sam had been breathing a little hard from the walk down the stairs and his nerves at how the two sides would interact. Now, he was pulling himself back together and turned to face them all as they stared each other down.

“Cas, Kevin, these are the Avengers,” Sam said, gesturing to them with his hands, while shaking his hair out of his eyes. “This is-.”

“I know all of you,” Kevin interrupted, smiling broadly. “Captain America, Thor, Black Widow, Iron Man, and the Hulk.” They all nodded politely. “Where’s Hawkeye?”

“Hawkeye, Clint, is with Dean in the impala on their way here,” Sam answered. “I know Dean called and filled you guys in about this but please, you have to trust them. They’re the good guys and they saved me. And Dean. Steve, Thor, Natasha, Tony, Bruce, this is Cas, short for Castiel, former Angel of the Lord. And this is Kevin Tran, former AP student, current Prophet of the Lord.”

Cas had a look of deep concentration on his face as he stared at each hero as they were introduced. Kevin just smiled and lifted one hand to his stomach height with a small wave. Each of the heroes had their own look of polite interest as they eyed the odd pair.

“Captain, you healed Sam?” Cas said with a deep concentration. Steve shook his head and smiled.

“Um, no, that would be Tony and Dr. Banner, Bruce,” he replied, gesturing at the scientist and the engineer. Cas nodded and moved towards them. Tony took a step back but Bruce wasn’t sure what to do. When Cas grabbed first Tony, then Bruce in a hug, both of them sputtered.

“You have my undying gratitude for performing this miracle that even I and my grace could not.” Cas hung his head in shame for a moment, then looked at Sam with a sad smile. “Sam is one of the most honorable humans I have met in my thousands of years being stationed on this planet. I was very upset that I could not save him from the Trials.”

“Cas,” Sam said tiredly. “It’s fine. I don’t blame you for not being able to heal me.” Cas cocked his head at him.

“I failed you. And Dean. But I will not fail you again.” Cas looked back to the group of heroes. “Whatever you ask of me, I will provide if I am able. For my gratitude.” 

“Yeah, same for me,” Kevin added, clearing his throat.

“Thank you, Castiel and Kevin,” Steve said finally. He gestured around him at the bunker. “This place looks like a war bunker. I can see that there’s a lot to take in here. Can one of you give us a tour?” Kevin and Cas looked at each other. Kevin broke the look and smiled at Steve.

“Uh, sure. I can do that.”

Steve nodded, turning to the others in his group. “Tony, Natasha, both of you with me and Kevin. Bruce, you and Thor stay here with Sam and Castiel. I’m sure Sam could do without all the walking.” When they all agreed to his directions, he gestured to Kevin. “Lead on.”

Bruce came over to the big table and stood by Sam, pulling items out of his medical bag to check Sam’s vitals again. Thor began to wander the room, looking at all the weapons that decorated the shelves along with the books. Steve had deposited his shield near the library table where Sam sat before following the tour group into the hallway. Tony’s Iron Man case had been left at the bottom of the metal stairs.

“Cas,” Sam said once Kevin’s voice disappeared around the corner. “How are you doing? With the whole human thing?” Cas shrugged and sat in the chair next to him.

“It’s odd,” Cas replied. “I am finding I need to do things I’ve never thought of before. Like drink and pee. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to peeing. Or the other thing.” He said with discomfort. Sam chuckled softly. Thor and Bruce eyed him curiously. 

“Yeah, it’s definitely something you’ve never had to do. You don’t remember any of that from Jimmy?” Cas again cocked his head as he thought.

“I did not need to do those things as Jimmy did as my grace sustained the vessel. I knew of the functions but he went to Heaven before I was able to experience any of it. Humans are a very biological group.” At this, Bruce chuckled too.

“You could say that,” Bruce smiled at Cas as he made notes on his tablet. “So, you’re an Angel, with a capital A?” He looked at Cas with interest in his eyes.

“I was. I was a soldier in Heaven’s army. Until my grace was stolen by Metatron, I was the Winchester’s protector and friend.”

“Hey, Cas, you’re still our friend,” Sam said, laying his cuffed hands on Cas’ on the table. Cas smiled at him gratefully. 

“I appreciate that, Sam. Dr. Banner, how did you heal Sam, if I may ask?”

“Call me Bruce, and it was a formula that Tony and I came up with that’s a stronger variation of the standard detoxification and treatment medicines used for radiation poisoning. It removed any leftover radiation material, then kick started his body’s healing process for the areas damaged by it.” Cas frowned again.

“But how did you remove the stored energy from the Trials without killing Sam?” Sam’s eyebrows went up.

“I never thought about that,” Sam said, turning to Bruce. “How did you do that?” Bruce sat down on Sam’s other side and paused thoughtfully. Thor was holding one of the swords from the stand and looked over at them as he too was interested.

“Honestly, I’m not sure how we did it,” Bruce responded, chewing on the earpiece of his glasses. “I mean, our equipment registered the energy but once the treatments started working, the energy levels kept going down as you got better. Maybe part of the treatment negated the energy or depleted it or even used it as part of the process. That could be why you have healed so quickly in so short a period. Maybe your own body has used that energy in conjunction with the medicine to accelerate your healing.” He saw Cas nodding and Sam just looked concerned.

“That makes sense,” Cas said. “Sam is an exceptional human and having been created as the perfect vessel for Lucifer, as well as having the Heavenly energy already inside during the treatments could certainly explain that.” Bruce was nodding too, both staring at Sam, who rolled his eyes. He was tired of being ‘special’. Thor distracted them suddenly by swinging the sword and burying it into one of the columns.

“Um, Thor,” Sam told him, “Can you please refrain from damaging my home?” Thor quickly removed the sword and returned it to the stand.

“My apologies, Samuel. I was merely testing its strength and sharpness. These weapons have been well maintained and these books appear to be in many different languages. Your home is as exceptional as you are.” He beamed at Sam, who ducked his head and ran his hand through his hair.

“Uh, thanks. Bruce, can we let Dean know we made it inside and no one killed each other?” Sam asked. Bruce nodded and handed Sam his cell phone so he could speak directly with his brother.

*****

“Hey, Sammy. You okay?” Dean asked as he answered the phone and put it on speaker so Clint could hear. He was nervously eyeing the phone in his hand.

“Yeah, Cas and Kevin were nervous but no one tried to kill anyone else, so that’s a win, I guess.” Dean relaxed now that he knew his brother and friends were okay. Clint just listened as he flew.

“You sound tired. You’re not trying to do too much are you? You’re letting Kevin and Cas do the tour thing and handle stuff, right?” He heard Sam sigh at him.

“Yes, Dean. I’m just a little worn out from the stairs and the adrenaline. I slept the entire way from the Tower.” Sam eyed Bruce but didn’t mention the sedative because Dean would have gotten upset and that would not be helpful right now. “Kevin is taking Steve, Natasha, and Tony on the tour. Bruce is here with me. Thor is playing with your favorite sword.” Dean laughed.

“Tell Thor to be careful with it because it’s freaking sharp. And good, strong steel.” He heard a chuckle.

“He already found out. How far out are you guys?” Dean looked at Clint with the question.

“About another three and a half to four hours,” Clint said without looking away from the instrument panel. Dean rolled his eyes.

“He won’t let me drive my own car when we land,” Dean whined. Now he heard another chuckle.

“Well, you are a prisoner, Dean.” Sam laughed. “Not like he’s going to just hand you the keys and fall asleep in the passenger seat like I do.” Dean grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah. See you in three to four hours, smart ass.” He hung up on his laughing brother.

“Well, he sounds better,” Clint said with a smile. Dean watched him for a moment, before relaxing back in the seat again.

“He does.” He replied. “He’s a menace to himself, you know. Complete clutz, tripping on his own huge feet. But smart as a whip and one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever known. That kid keeps me honest.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, arms crossing over his chest.

“And what about his big brother?” Clint raised his eyebrow and looked over at Dean, who snapped his eyes open at the question. Dean shifted uncomfortably before replying.

“I was raised to do two things. Hunt monsters and protect Sammy. And to me, it was all the same. Hunt the monsters to protect him. Didn’t even know until we were older that THAT was the truth of it all. From the time he was born, they were out to get him. Kid’s always been a monster magnet. If there was something out there, it was him they went for first.” Dean paused, his eyes glossed over with memories. “His moral compass has always only pointed north, though. He refused to grift like me and dad, even wanted to be a lawyer. Was always the first to jump in to help people. Even the people me and dad would have let die. When he took Lucifer with him to the cage, it was the scariest, the damned loneliest time in my life. Dad was dead and Sam was gone. And I knew I couldn’t get him back because if he got out, so could Lucifer. I had to let him suffer to save the world.” Dean sucked in a shuddering breath.

Clint glanced at him again, eyebrows furrowed.

“How did he escape?” Clint asked. “The books ended at his jump into the cage and all you told us was that he returned with no soul.” Dean’s face got darker.

“Cas pulled him out. He thought since he had pulled me out, that he could do the same for Sam. You know, he didn’t like Sam at all in the beginning because he was still just a soldier, a worker bee, and he was only told that my brother was an abomination, that he deserved to die but was only being allowed to live so Heaven could fight the final battle and win. But even Cas eventually saw through that shit, saw what the heavenly host were scheming, saw Sam for who he was. Is. And he couldn’t let Sam stay there. But he didn’t know how much harder it would be to pull from the cage rather than just Hell. It was built by God to hold the archangel. So, he got Sam’s body but couldn’t save his soul. I don’t think he ever forgave himself for that. Sam and I did, but Cas didn’t.”

“But you said Cas later went on a power trip and nearly killed Sam.” Dean flinched.

“Yeah, good intentions, bad decisions. The Winchester way.” Clint grunted in question. Dean smirked. “Cas’s been with us through so much, he’s a part of our weird little family.”

“You also said Sam was the only family you had left.” Dean snorted.

“He is the only blood family I have left. Cas is like that weird cousin with brain damage that you want to hate sometimes when he messes up, but you still can’t help but want to hug his dumb, loveable ass. Kevin is like the overachieving, adopted son of the aunt you never knew you had, but you inherited him anyway. Family. Fucked up, but family.” Dean smiled to himself. “What about you? Got any family?”

Clint gave a half smile.

“I did. I had a brother. Barney. But he tried to kill me a few times before SHIELD took him out.” Dean whistled.

“That is fucked up. Are you okay with it?” Clint snorted.

“What’s there to be okay with? He was a criminal who wanted me dead. He died first. End of story. My team is my family now.” Clint closed off his emotions again and Dean grunted. He wanted to know more, but he knew better than to prod the deadly assassin, especially when he had control of his car, and was part of the group who also had his brother and his friends.

“So, you gonna let me drive when we land?” Clint chuckled, happy to have the subject changed.

“Up to you, really,” he smiled. Dean sat up straight and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Explain.”

“Well, if you want to drive from the airport to the bunker, I’m willing to let you do that.” Dean blinked in surprise. Clint laughed. “You might still be a serial killer, but I’ve dealt with enough murderers and criminals to know you won’t kill me in my sleep. Or try to dump me and run.”

“Oh, and how do you know that?” Dean asked, curious. The archer shrugged.

“Neither of you have put up any fight, even knowing you were probably going straight to prison. When Crowley escaped, you insisted we protect ourselves with those drawings, sigils. If you had wanted to hurt us, you could have just not told us anything. And lastly, Sam is still technically in custody and healing. But the way you two interact and how Thor has taken to your brother, I seriously doubt most of those charges.” Clint turned to give Dean a thoughtful look. He didn’t mention anything about the info from Fury. “Am I wrong on any of those?” Dean pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. He huffed and leaned back again.

“No. No, you’re not wrong. It’s seriously messing with my vibe of badassery, but hey, having superheroes actually believe us is awesome. And I get to drive my Baby again.” Clint smirked. “By the way, about Thor. Is he seriously always so upbeat? And what the hell is up with norse gods and my brother? First Loki and then Thor.” Lucky for them, the jet was mostly on autopilot since the course had been laid in upon take-off. When Clint jerked around in shock, Dean gripped the seat and stared at Clint wide-eyed.

“Loki?” Clint asked, turning to face Dean, his eyes narrowed in anger. “What do you know about Loki?” Dean stuttered on his words.

“Um, he was a dick,” Dean managed finally. “Fucker was fixated on Sammy for a while there. We were on a hunt for something that had killed a college professor when we met him. There were a few other weird incidents, not so lethal, before we figured out he was the Trickster, a supernatural jerk who gave ‘just desserts’ to people he thought deserved it. We thought we’d killed him but it was another trick. Then he tortured Sam in that time loop, keeping him in the same damn day, every day ending with me dead. We told you guys about that one. Tuesday, remember?”

“But you called him Gabriel.”

“Well, yeah, because we found out later that he was both. Loki, the Norse trickster god, and Gabriel, the archangel. Fucker trapped me and Sam in TV land trying to get us to play our roles in the apocalypse and let the end of the world happen. We sorta talked him into not going along with that plan and he saved us from some pagan gods, which included Odin and Baldur by the way, who tried to use us to stop the Apocalyse. Of course, it went ass up when Lucifer showed looking for his vessel. Lucifer killed Gabriel but we got away. Well, we thought he’d killed him, but he does these illusions. Sounds like he faked that death too and just went to New York to mess shit up. He looked different on the news but we just figured it was another vessel or an illusion.”

“Loki is supposed to be locked up on Asgard now.” Clint said finally. He took a deep breath and then turned back monitoring their flight.

“Maybe Asgard has magic that can hold the archangel. We haven’t seen or heard from him since the New York thing was over with.” Dean’s eyes kept flitting from Clint to the open sky. That anger had been real and barely controlled. He was glad he was no longer on the assassin’s bad list. Clint nodded, rolling his shoulders to release the tension that had built there.

*****

Sam had just put down the cell phone when the tour group re-entered the room through the other hallway, having apparently completed the circuit. Kevin was much more relaxed now, chatting casually with Steve about how weird it was to find out he was a prophet. Thor instantly stood when they appeared, and Bruce raised his eyebrows in question. 

“And this is the library, where we have lots of books on all types of supernatural subjects,” Kevin said, gesturing around the room.

“You seriously live here?” Tony asked and Kevin rolled his eyes in frustration.

“Again, yes, Tony,” he said plopping his butt on the table next to Cas. Obviously, the tension and giddiness from meeting the Avengers had already worn off as Tony tested Kevin’s patience. Tony gave a flustered look to Bruce.

“Brucie, you have to see the bones of this place. There’s a garage with some awesome vintage cars, their own infirmary, a bit outdated but still. They have a freaking dungeon! It’s an engineering madhouse. The computers are all still tube based! It looks like none of this should work, but it does.” Bruce looked impressed. Sam chuckled.

“Yeah, we’ve been here for 6-8 months, I think, and we still haven’t figured out how we have power or water or wifi.” Tony shook his head. He was frowning down at his tablet, tapping furiously.

“We talked to Dean and Clint and let them know our status.” Bruce nodded at the cell on the table. “They’re still about three and a half hours out.”

“How do you get on the wifi here?” Tony was asking. Sam chuckled and reached for the tablet from Tony, who handed it over with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, it took me a bit to figure it out.” Sam was tapping the tablet and Tony was astonished to see him swiping through the operating system programming with ease. He selected a few lines and altered the code there. He swiped back to the main screen and handed it back. “That should do it. The signal is actually a frequency you have to tap into manually, rather than a standard wifi signal with a password.”

“Impressive,” Tony mugged, now happily pulling up the data from the outside world. “You guys also hack?”

“Not like you’re implying. Mainly into street cameras to track the monsters, look into financial transactions to see if someone came into lots of money if we suspect a demon deal or something.” Sam shrugged. “Frank helped us with any hacking needs until the leviathan got him. Now, we have Charlie, who’s not a hunter, but she can hack into anything.” He stopped suddenly, realizing he’d probably said too much. Cas and Kevin were giving him wide-eyed looks. 

The Avengers who had been paying attention gave him a different look.

“Charlie?” Tony asked. “Part of your merry gang?”

“She’s a friend who helped us stop the leviathans and some djinn,” Sam coughed. “She’s stays on the move though so that even we don’t know where she is, not that we’re tracking her. We meet people on our hunts who help us sometimes. We try to keep most of the normal people out of it though.” 

“So you guys are friends with Angels, demons, hackers, and other hunters?” Steve raised an eyebrow. Sam coughed nervously. 

“Sam and Dean are not always discriminating in their associations,” Cas piped up, “but most of their contacts have been very helpful in removing threats to humanity.” Sam cleared his throat.

“Uh, so, Kevin, can you get Sam something to wear besides socks?” Bruce asked, trying to change the subject. “He’s still unwell enough to not go barefooted, but he also doesn’t need the slip hazard in just socks.” Sam smiled gratefully at Bruce then nodded to Kevin who turned to go. Steve stopped the young man before he could leave the room.

“I’m sorry, but until we know more about you, I cannot allow you to roam alone.” Kevin shrugged and gestured in the ‘follow me’ motion. Natasha became his shadow as he left the room.

“So, Castiel,” Tony said finally, looking up from his tablet. “What is your full name?” Cas furrowed his brow in confusion. 

“That is my full name.” Steve, Tony, and Bruce looked at each other. Thor was perusing the bookshelves, running his fingers along the spines. 

“If you have to look him up for a criminal record,” Sam told them, “look under Jimmy, uh, James Novak, from Pontiac, Illinois. You’ll probably find his missing persons record but no criminal record.”

“Who’s Jimmy Novak?” Steve asked.

“He was this human vessel’s name,” Cas stated. The superheroes all made horrified faces. Sam threw up one hand towards Steve, as far as he could anyway with the handcuffs.

“Wait, it’s not like that. Well, it is, but it’s more complicated than Dean was making it out to be.”

“Jimmy was a devout man,” Cas said, with a fond smile. “He prayed for guidance and was happy to host my form within him. When I first joined with him, I was still a loyal soldier and did not realize what repercussions my actions would have on him and his family.” He now frowned. “His family was devastated when he disappeared with me. I did return to try to help him put them back together as a family, but the demons were there and nearly killed them all. Jimmy again gave himself as a vessel to save his family. It was when Lucifer, using Sam as a vessel, destroyed me, that Jimmy died and his soul went to Heaven. When I awoke after the fall into the cage, I was alone in this body. It has been one of my regrets.”

By this time, Tony had pulled up the records for Jimmy and had confirmed that there was no criminal activity, not even a parking ticket. Just the record of his disappearance with pictures of Cas’ face. On the ride out, he’d already looked up Kevin Tran and confirmed Sam’s story about him as well. The teenaged AP student had a mental breakdown and disappeared one night. No criminal record, nothing to indicate he was coerced. Tony was able to match both of the faces to the people. Tony shared this information with Bruce, Steve, and Thor and forwarded it to Clint and Natasha’s phones as well. Steve just nodded silently. 

“Okay, so we’ve seen how secure and hidden this bunker is,” Steve said as if deep in thought. “Is this evidence that we’re supposed to find here readily available or are we going to have to wait for Dean to share it?” He looked at Sam, who sighed and looked around. He spied a worn book on one of the shelves.

“Cas, can you hand me that black book on the third shelf, title is in Latin?” He pointed at it. Cas retrieved it and looked at it in confusion before laying it on the table in front of Sam. Sam immediately opened it and then flipped through a few pages before stopping. He paused and then looked around at them.

“Sam, what are you doing?” Cas asked him with concern in his deep voice.

“It’s a basic teaching spell,” Sam said. “It literally doesn’t do anything except show like a slideshow of supernatural creatures from a certain radius around the spell casting.” The Avengers looked alarmed. Sam raised his arms to show he wasn’t trying to do anything to hurt anyone. “I need a few ingredients first. But it’s just a non-tangible window so you can see what we deal with every day.” Steve exchanged looks with the others.

“I don’t think we can allow you to do a spell,” Steve said finally. “We have no way of knowing if it’s a mind controlling spell or just illusions to make us see what you want us to see.” Sam pushed the book back towards Cas who replaced it on the shelf.

“Fair enough,” the young hunter said. “I guess I didn’t think of it that way.” He laid his cuffed wrists across the table and thought for a bit. “There are some old reels of some exorcisms and there’s the reel of the Men of Letters attempt to cure a demon. That’s what led us to the last trial. It’s too old to be faked to that level.” 

“I can get those if you tell me where they are,” Cas offered. Sam had to stop and think about it.

He stood up with a little effort, trying not to stumble as he made his way slowly, leaning on any fixtures along the way, to the card catalog shoved to the corner of the library. He dug through it and pulled out the card where he’d found the videos archived before.

“Room 7B, third shelf from the left, box labeled ‘Reels’,” Sam said, before putting the card back. Bruce and Tony had sidled up behind him and were looking around his arms at the card catalog. Cas headed into the archives with Steve in tow while Sam backed off to allow them to look at the card catalog.

He sat back down heavily as they began pulling out random cards, reading the notes, then putting them back where they had been pulled from. Sam was immensely glad that they were scientists and understood the need for and the maintenance of a solid system like that. 

“Did you do all this?” Bruce asked as Kevin and Natasha returned with a pair of the old Men of Letters slippers like the ones Dean had found upon moving in. Natasha gave a slight tilt of her head towards Bruce, indicating that per a previous discussion, she had surreptitiously surveyed Sam’s room during the tour, as well as just now and there was nothing truly dangerous there if they had to put him to bed there. He noticed the gesture and moved his eyes up and down in quick acknowledgement before returning his attention to the card catalog and Sam.

“I figured Dean wouldn’t mind,” Kevin was apologetic as he bent down to help him slip them on. “He keeps saying how comfortable they are and I don’t think shoes with laces are going to be friendly to you right now.”

“That’s fine, Kevin. Thank you.” Sam knew that he was right. He cleared his throat and looked put his attention back to the question.

“Not all of it. Most of it was here when we unlocked the bunker. The Men of letters had been scholars and got this system started. I just felt if we were going to use this information, it needs to be maintained. I’ve added some things and Dean helped me re-classify some stuff that we know more about now than they did then. According to our grandfather, Henry Winchester, this is all the accumulation of thousands of years of lore and research. We think there are supposed to be other bunkers but we haven’t found any of them yet and I’m assuming they’re all sealed and hidden like this one was and have been since Abaddon wiped all of the Men of Letters out in 1958.”

“Abaddon?” Tony asked glancing over at the man. He had heard that name before when they had first given them the incredible overview of their lives.

“Last knight of Hell. Possessed a woman named Josie who was going to become the first Woman of letters, but instead got stuck as the knight and slaughtered all of them. It’s why this place was locked and hidden for so long. Secret society and all.”

“What about these books?” Bruce gestured around them, looking at Sam. Thor had pulled a book of Norse mythology down and was perusing it with a smile. 

“We use them to research spells or warding or whatever we’re hunting. I haven’t had time to read most of them as there are more in the archives and other rooms, but Dean’s confident that we’ll have plenty of time to go through them.” Sam snorted in disbelief. 

“It looks like they are in lots of different languages.” Sam looked around and shrugged.

“Well, yeah. It’s knowledge from all over the world, other cultures. Not that long ago, many supernatural creatures weren’t heard of outside of their native lands. I think it was after Eve, Mother of all monsters, was freed from Purgatory that they started showing up all over the world. Japanese demons, Russian water spirits, all kinds of things from all over the world that America’s hunters had never dealt with. If we’d had these books then, it would have been easier. I mean, Bobby had an impressive library but the leviathans burned it down and the originals were lost. Bobby, being the paranoid bastard that he was, had copies made of all his books and stashed them in hidden places that we’re still looking for. But don’t worry, Dean took out Eve already.” Tony, Bruce, and Natasha were staring at him.

“But you read all these languages?” Bruce asked.

“Um, not all of them. A little of a lot of them. Some of them are more about intonation for spells rather than knowing the language though. It’s hard to get a spell right if you don’t know how the words are supposed to sound, even in dead languages that haven’t been spoken aloud for centuries. Kevin and I have been trying to translate the ones we can’t fluently understand. I personally haven’t learned any Elamite cuneiform or Turkish yet.”

“Yeah, that would have really come in handy with the demon tablet,” Kevin muttered. 

“There are other books I haven’t cracked open yet that are also in languages I haven’t yet identified and haven’t found referenced in the card catalog yet.” Sam sank further into the chair. Kevin wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or exhaustion. 

“Sam, want me to get you some water?” Kevin asked moving to his side. “I think it’s about time to start dinner soon too. I can bring you some food. Maybe some soup or crackers?” Sam waved him away.

“No thanks, Kev,” he said. “Not really hungry right now, but you guys go ahead.” 

Steve and Cas returned carrying several large manila envelopes and the reel to reel player. Tony’s eyes grew big and his mouth fell open.

“You guys really are working with ancient equipment,” he said lovingly running his hands over the player. Steve and Cas handed him the reels to queue up. Cas got the lights and everyone settled around the library table to watch where the images were projected on a wall. 

They all sat there for the next hour going from reel to reel, watching, listening to the demons’ howls, the priests’ invocations, other spell experiments. They watched the black eyes, the smoke escaping the bodies, spell effects. Then they watched them again, trying to catch the deceptions. When they appeared to be satisfied that there was nothing more to see, the lights came on again and Sam leaned forward to carefully repackage the reels to be re-shelved. The superheroes stepped away to converse for a short period, then returned to ask questions.

“What’s with the black smoke?” Tony asked.

“A demon is a human soul that went to Hell and was twisted and tormented until nothing was left except black smoke. That’s how they get in and out of places and people. Any opening that’s not warded is fair game.”

“What is warding?” Steve asked. Sam leaned back and gestured upwards to the top of the walls. He spoke a single word of latin and suddenly there were dozens of symbols glowing for a few seconds before fading away. They stared at Sam.

“Sorry, you have to say the magic word make them visible, even if it’s only for a very short period of time,” Sam said, holding up his hands placatingly again. “Warding are special symbols, sometimes letters or words of certain languages, that create a magical shield around a specified area, along with targeted spells. This place was warded with all of the ones known at the time, like demons and some other supernatural creatures. Cas helped us add some Enochian ones to keep out the other angels. And the bunker itself is lined with iron and salt, which keeps out ghosts and some other types of creatures that aren’t stopped by the warding.

“One unexpected effect of the warding is that Dean and I can use our cell phones in here and the GPS pings them randomly about 20 miles away, so no one can track us while we’re here. Another effect is that unless someone is actively looking for this bunker, they don’t really see it. So any strangers that come this way, unless they’re looking for this bunker specifically, it just doesn’t register on their consciousness and they keep going or go back.

“The sigils can be used in other ways too. Dean, Kevin, and I have anti-possession tattoos, based off amulets Bobby gave us years ago.” He pulled down the collar of his shirt to show the anti-possession tattoo on his upper chest. Kevin pulls up his sleeve to show them the one on his inner forearm. Sam looks over at Cas. “Oh, damn, Cas. You’re human now. You need to grab one of the amulets from the impala’s trunk when Dean gets back. Grab enough for the Avengers to have one each too.” Cas nodded.

“And this warding keeps everything evil out?” Steve asked.

“Well, not like just a really evil human,” Sam replied cautiously. “But if he was possessed, he couldn’t get in here. I don’t think it would work on every Purgatory creature, but it definitely keeps out ghosts and such. But this place is so secret really that we’ve been here for almost a year and have yet to have anyone just randomly show up. It’s by invitation only.”

Tony looks around again.

“So, do you have a security system or cameras or anything?” Tony asks. “Kevin mentioned the lockdown and warning lights earlier.”

“Yeah, it’s a magical warning system. If something big happened, like the angels falling, apparently, or the place was under attack by supernatural beings, it locks itself down. There’s the whole flashing red warning lights, klaxons sirens, etc. But no cameras, although that would be nice.” Tony grinned from ear to ear. 

“Thor, buddy. Would you assist me with retrieving our luggage from the jet? I have some things I think could really be of use while we’re here.” Tony watched Thor return the Norse mythology book before turning to head back to the entrance with him following close behind. 

Kevin watched Sam yawn and blink slowly.

“Um, I showed you guys the kitchen on the tour. That’s where I’m going to go get some soup started for Sam. Anyone else want anything while I’m in there doing stuff? There’s not a lot in the fridge or storage right now, but it should be enough to feed everyone today and maybe tomorrow.” Steve decided to come with him to see what he might be able to make for the team. Sam again protested the soup, but Kevin dismissed him with a wave.

Bruce sat down beside Cas and Sam. Natasha was pulling a book in Russian off a shelf and thumbing through it. 

Sam rubbed his eyes tiredly, Bruce and Cas exchanging a look. Sam caught them looking at him.

“What?” he asked slowly, looking between them.

“You really need to go lie down,” Bruce said. “You’re due for the final dose. Admittedly, you’re doing amazing for such a short time since being nearly dead, but you do need to rest though and not overdo it.”

“Maybe it’s your formula that’s doing all this amazing work,” Sam countered. “But yes, I’m tired. I think the last time I felt this wiped was right before my unfortunate jog into traffic with Lucifer on my shoulder.” Cas cringed at that reference. 

“Let us help you to your room, Sam,” Cas offered, standing up and moving to one side of the tired man. Bruce stood and moved to the other side, not giving Sam the chance to say no. He had his medical bag draped over one arm as he and Cas gave him their arms to pull himself up with. Natasha had closed the book and was watching them closely but hadn’t moved to help. Sam towered a half foot above both men as he stood with more strength than he had previously shown. Both on the men on either side of him were not holding him up, just keeping him steady as he turned and headed out of the library into one of the hallways. 

She followed them around the corner, trailing them to Sam’s bedroom, the book on Russian fairy tales nestled into the crook in her arm. 

****

Once Bruce and Cas had gotten Sam settled on his bed in his room, Bruce checked his vitals, then administered the final treatment dose. Sam gave Bruce a questioning look and he shook his head.

“No more sedatives unless you ask for them. But you do need to rest.” Sam nodded tiredly as he lay back, toeing off the slippers and closing his eyes, his handcuffed hands threaded together across his chest. “We’ll remove the IV port after we pull some blood in the morning. We need to rerun your bloodwork and the RIID scans with some equipment we left on the jet. As long as everything looks good, you won’t need anything more except rest and food.” 

Cas and Bruce left Sam’s room, pulling the door closed and found Natasha leaning against the wall, the book open in her hands. She smiled up at them, raising an eyebrow at Bruce.

“He’s resting. Hopefully good to go.” Bruce looked pleased as he closed his medical bag again. Cas simply stared at her before walking away towards the kitchen just down the hall. She followed him with her eyes and quirked her eyebrow at Bruce once he was gone. “Yeah, not sure what to think about that one. Either he’s the world’s best actor or he doesn’t understand the concept of not saying exactly what’s on his mind.” Natasha tucked away that assessment for later analysis.

“I’ll be here unless you guys need me for anything else,” she finally said quietly. Bruce glanced back at the door, then smiled and her and nodded. He shuffled away to the kitchen in Cas’ wake. Natasha narrowed her hearing to the door beside her and could only hear soft breathing, indicating the young man was possibly asleep. She smiled to herself and dropped her head back into the book, keeping one ear for any change in the speed or rhythm of the breaths.


	10. Demon!Clint vs the Winchesters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint is possessed. Dean and Sam have to save an Avenger. Sam is tired.

Thor and Tony were lugging the luggage back to the bunker, Thor carrying the lion’s share, when Tony asked his friend a question.

“I get that your faith in Heimdall’s judgement is unshaken, but what would you do if he turned out to be wrong?” Tony glanced sideways at the blond god, watching for a reaction. Thor only smiled.

“He is not wrong,” Thor said firmly. “It will only take patience and time for the rest of you to see what I know. Already you all agree they are not the threat you assumed.” Tony stopped and stared at Thor’s back as he continued on. A few seconds later, he smiled and continued to follow his friend and teammate. 

They returned to the bunker and piled most of the bags at the bottom of the stairs, Tony pulling one large bag off the top. He moved to the library table and opened it, revealing tech equipment, such as pinpoint cameras, circuit boards, etc. It really was a catchall for whatever he thought he might need in any event. He pulled out a few of the cameras and turned them on, linking them to his tablet. Because Sam had given him the wifi frequency, it didn’t take long to get them set up and broadcasting to the tablet. 

He went back up and installed one of them using the magnetic base to the very top of the outside of the bunker door, discreetly enough that it wouldn’t draw attention to itself and out of the way enough that it wouldn’t get in the way of the door’s operation. He installed another one the same way above the door on the inside, pointing where it should show the library, war room, and the stairs from the outside.

Tony checked both of the cameras to make sure he could see in real time and smiled to himself for his ingeniousness. 

Thor had moved off in search of the hero of Asgard. He wandered into the kitchen, where he found Kevin and Steve preparing a meal of steak, mashed potatoes, and green beans. There was also a pot of soup warming on another burner for Sam, whose stomach still couldn’t handle solid food. Bruce and Cas were sitting at the table off to the side, discussing other differences about angels and humans. 

“Is young Samuel not faring well?” Thor asked. Everyone looked up at him.

“He’s resting in his room,” Cas answered. “Natasha is standing outside his door, reading a book.” Thor nodded and exited the kitchen into the hallway. He strode to her side as she looked up at him. 

“How is he doing really?” Thor asked quietly. Natasha smiled gently at him.

“He’s just resting, Thor,” she replied as equally quiet. She could hear his breathing pause, then speed up a little before huffing in a sigh and settling down again. He obviously knew they were out there. He most likely couldn’t hear what they were saying specifically but was resigned to put up with it for now. “I’m fine watching over him for now. Go help Tony. You can take over once Clint gets here with Dean.” Thor hesitated, glancing back at the door, but finally agreed and returned to the library to seek out Tony.

Bruce caught Steve eyeing the door into the hallway where Thor has disappeared. 

“Steve, it’s fine. At least Thor’s protective, not angry. Clint and Dean will be here in a few hours and we can discuss what we’ve seen so far and make the final determination.” Steve sighed, knowing Bruce was right. 

When the meal was finally ready, Bruce went to round up everyone not already in the kitchen. He found Tony fiddling with some odds and ends tech in the library, with Thor using his height to hold up items for Tony to test at certain ranges from his tablet. Bruce told them to come eat and Thor put down the device and turned a squawking Tony back towards the kitchen. 

He found Natasha still casually leaning against the wall by Sam’s room. She nodded at him and tuned into the man inside the room. His breathing was still normal, so he definitely wasn’t sleeping, but he also wasn’t moving around, so probably just lying in bed, avoiding them all for now. Once Bruce reached her side, she reached over and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” the voice called from inside. She swung the door open and found Sam still lying in the same position, eyelids cracked to see who it was. When he saw her and Bruce, he sat up slowly, waking up a bit more. “What’s up?”

“Dinner is ready,” Bruce told him, coming to stand by him to offer him an arm if it was needed. Sam groaned a little.

“I don’t think I can eat anything solid right now,” he told them, starting to lay back down.

“That’s fine,” Bruce said with too much pep in his voice. He reached down and grabbed Sam’s hand, pulling him back up, and then up to standing, helping him slide his feet into the slippers. “Kevin made you some soup and your presence is required.” Sam swayed for a moment, then Natasha’s hand brushed his arm as she reached out and he stilled. 

“Yeah, sounds good.” He said glancing over at her, then walking out of his room. To his credit, he didn’t stumble once, just walked slower than he’d like with Natasha and Bruce at his elbows to catch him if he did trip or fall. He was acutely aware of them watching his every move and he tried to stoop a little so he didn’t intimidate them just by being so large as to loom over them. 

When they made it to the kitchen, he was seated at the table between Bruce and Kevin, who had already laid his place with the bowl of chicken broth and a bottle of water. The others were getting their plates of more hearty fare and gathering around him. Thor, Steve, and Tony sat across from them. Cas and Natasha were seated at the island with plates of their own. Sam stared down at the bowl of soup. His stomach growled loudly, making most of them look over at him.

“Eat,” Kevin said, putting the spoon physically into Sam’s hand. “Dean will be here in a few hours and if you don’t eat, he’ll blame me.” Sam wanted to argue but knowing Dean, he would blame Kevin for Sam’s missed meal. So, he dug in and slowly sipped the warm soup, bringing both his cupped hands up to his bent head with every spoonful. He was about halfway through the bowl when he realized most of them were done eating and were just sitting and keeping him company. He tuned back into their conversations and nearly spewed a mouthful of soup across the table onto Steve when he caught what Cas was telling Tony and Bruce.

“A real angel, huh?” Tony had asked Cas, who nodded. Cas bit into his steak and closed his eyes in obvious pleasure.

“I was, yes. Being human has its benefits though. As an angel, I could not taste food, feel warmth, experience sex.” Bruce and Steve choked on their food. Tony and Natasha smiled. “All of the things Dean claims makes life as a human worth it. With food, as an angel, all I could taste was molecules and while it’s not unpleasant, it’s not the ‘mouth orgasm’ Dean calls eating good food.” Now Steve was blushing and Natasha and Tony were openly laughing. Bruce looked down at his food, wondering if he were eating it all wrong.

“You could taste the molecules?” Bruce asked, curiously.

“Before I lost my grace, yes. It’s hard to describe. It’s like putting a handful of sand on your tongue and while there is no flavor, you can identify the exact type of material of each grain.” He cocked his head in thought, then nodded to himself before going in for another bite of the steak. Bruce and Tony stared at him. “Although, to hear Dean talk about how sex is better than eating, it’d be interesting to experience a sexual orgasm as a comparison. Angels have no sexual preference or desires. So, sex would be an opportunity of a lifetime to experience.” The room went still as everyone tried not to either laugh or choke.

“Interesting, eh Watson?” Tony said finally. Bruce just nodded and went back to eating. He snorted around his next bite. 

Sam was able to finish his soup and some of the bottle of water without choking on it as he heard Cas’ no-nonsense description of the joys of being human. 

Natasha and Cas offered to wash up as Kevin and Steve had done all of the food preparation, so everyone got up and went into the library to await the arrival of the last two of their party, while they did the dishes in silence. In the library, Sam took the time to show them some of the Men of Letters ledgers, which fascinated them.

*****

Clint finally landed the jet at the airport and tucked into the hanger assigned to him. He let Dean pull the car out of the jet before it was locked up. Dean was smiling from ear to ear knowing he was getting to drive his Baby again and was so much closer to Sam and home. The last update comm check had informed them that Sam had been given the final treatment and was doing well, just tired still. They had been told that they had missed dinner and to grab something on the way to the bunker. 

A few miles outside the airport, there was a small diner with typical greasy spoon fare. They went inside to order takeout so they could finish the drive. After the food was ordered and paid for, Dean parked himself at the counter to drank down a beer. Clint headed to the restroom. 

He had noticed a car following them and was trying to decide what kind of tail this was. He was surprised when the very burly, bald man who had stepped out of the car followed him into the restroom. Clint pretended to ignore the man as he stood at the sink washing his hands, but the man came directly into his space, and shoved him back against the wall before he could completely dodge him.

Clint caught himself and leapt forward to retaliate but the large man just threw back his head and a thick plume of black smoke poured from his mouth, directly into Clint’s face. The archer skidded backwards but the smoke was cloying and pushed into his nose and mouth. It wasn’t the suffocation feeling that made him panic. It was the sensation of his own mind being forced into a corner while a new mind took control of his body. It was different than Loki’s mind control. 

Loki’s had been more of a stripping of all emotions and the addition of a severe loyalty to the Norse god that had made Clint not only compliant but complicit in the attacks he ended up being a part of as he had actively planned them for the god. 

This was more like being captured, bound and gagged, but his body becoming a marionette where he definitely wasn’t pulling the strings. He wasn’t sure which one was worse. 

He watched himself stand up and walk over the other man’s dead body. There was a laughter from the other mind in his body as it enjoyed watching him squirm and scratch to try to regain control of himself. His body stepped back into the main diner area, catching site of Dean taking the takeout package from the waitress. 

“Dean Winchester,” the body thief’s voice inside his head growled. Dean spotted Clint and came over with a smile, apparently not noticing a thing.

“Dude, bacon cheeseburgers, fries, and cherry pie,” Dean was practically crowing as he swung the diner bag from one hand and the keys to the impala in the other as he passed Clint and stepped out into the parking lot.

‘Notice something, fucker!’ Clint screamed in his mind. ‘Notice anything. Something is off, something is wrong. Figure it out, asshole!’

But Dean just started the black car and gestured for Clint to get a move on. Was this a demon possession like the man had talked about back at the tower? If so, he knew he was probably going to die. If the demon didn’t kill him, Sam or Dean would have to do it to kill the demon and save his team, as well as themselves. He could sense the darkest evil in the controlling mind and hoped they’d figure it out fast before he hurt anyone unintentionally.

His body slid into the seat next to Dean and tapped the dashboard, making Dean laugh as he pulled out and took off down the road towards the bunker. The sun was going down, which he knew lowered all of their chances at survival as the darkness would most likely hide his altered state until it was too late. He heard his body chatting with Dean, talking about unimportant things, making both of them chuckle sometimes.

“How much longer?” He heard himself say.

“About 15-20 minutes, dude. You’re gonna love it. It’s got great water pressure and you should see the vehicles in the garage. Vintage but mint.” Clint’s body was nodding along, the voice in his head laughing at Clint and at Dean’s lack of awareness.

“Sounds awesome,” came from his mouth. When Dean suggested they call with an updated ETA, Clint heard himself tell Dean, “Yeah, give Sammy a call. Wouldn’t want to surprise him.” Dean looked at him in only for a split second and Clint almost cheered, thinking he had finally noticed something and would be able to stop him from hurting anyone. But Dean just pulled out his cell and dialed Sam’s cell. 

“Hey Sammy,” Dean said, holding the phone to his ear, smiling hugely at Clint. “Yeah, we’re close. About 15 minutes out. Just stopped to pick up some bacon cheeseburgers since you jerks couldn’t save us any dinner.” Dean laughed at whatever response he got. “Yeah, me and Clint have been bonding, little brother. It’s awesome. I think we might be soul-mates, but I’m not sure he appreciates that.” Dean smirked at him and Clint felt his body respond with a rolling of his eyes. Clint registered some sensation that he wasn’t quite sure of yet, but he knew enough to not reveal it. He continued to scream internally, battering against the mind that held him captive. 

“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s pretty obvious since I had gum on my shoe and I don’t think he even noticed. He might have but never said anything about it.” Dean was still laughing with Sam. “You know it man. Well, get ready because I can’t wait to see you up and around again. Might have to round up a team to tag team wrestle with.” Clint was aware that whatever was controlling him, the demon, he now knew, was extraordinarily pleased with himself for pulling off such a complete body and personality theft. 

Dean hung up and turned the tape deck back on. Clint was startled when he heard a rock song playing, rather than the country that he had bought in New York, but he covered it quickly, determined not to give up a damn thing to his captor. He continued to press against the bonds that held him and this distraction kept the demon from discovering what Clint had finally realized. Dean knew exactly was going on and was taking him into a trap.

*****

“Oh, shit, shit, shit!” Sam said standing up quickly. He was rubbing and twisting his hands together as he stood. The others had listened to the speakerphone conversation between him and Dean and had watched Sam go still when his brother had joked about he and Clint being soul-mates and then as he had become more and more agitated as the call went on. Dean had been laughing and talking crap for most of the conversation, but Sam hadn’t laughed at all after the first few comments. They were all standing now, watching him pacing, running his hand through his long hair. He was standing at his full height, no longer swaying or stumbling. His steps were sure and steady. 

“Sam?” Steve asked, grabbing his arm to stop the frantic pacing. The man stopped and focused on him. But as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, Sam paled and swallowed.

“Uh, Clint’s been possessed by a demon.” Everyone burst into questions. Sam cleared his throat and hurriedly tried to fill them in. They stopped talking once his strong voice started. “They’re like 15 minutes away. That part you all got. Dean used some code words we set up years ago just in case we were ever being listened in on. ‘Gum on my shoe’ means that someone had followed them, probably from the airport to the diner. ‘Soul-mates’ is code for possession of some kind, maybe a demon. They probably jumped Clint somewhere they weren’t seen, like the restroom. Clint did something or said something that tipped Dean off. ‘Tag team wrestle’ means it’s dangerous enough that it’ll take at least two of us. I’m guessing he means the exorcism because obviously Clint is going to fucking fight it all the way. Do any of you know the catholic exorcism ritual or how to read and speak Latin fluently with old English inflection?” No one responded. He sighed.

“What’s the play?” Steve asked. He had made the instant decision that if this was a ploy by the brothers to pull something over on them, it was six superheroes versus two dangerous but completely human men. From what he had seen of Castiel and Kevin, neither of them were fighters. If this was real, then Clint’s life was in danger, and they would have to trust the brothers for now. They’d stop them if it looked to be anything except what they were claiming it would be, but they’d seen enough already that it was hard not to believe.

“Clint won’t be able to get inside the bunker on his own with all the warding so our best chance of rescuing him would be have me inside to the start the exorcism and Dean behind him on the outside ready to pick up where I leave off. Demons being exorcised tend to get kind of violent and can use telekinesis to break our concentration. The hardest part of the ritual is listening to each other to tell where the other person gets cut off so you can pick it up and get it done. Losing your place or missing a word can mean a restart, which sucks since it’s kind of long. Dean and I are going to get thrown around a bit if the demon’s high enough level, but we’ll get him back. “

“What can we do?” they were all asking. 

“I don’t want to presume, but I’m guessing Clint can take a lot, like he can handle some punches, etc. It’ll be up to you guys to keep him distracted enough to let us finish the exorcism. You have to remember that he may act like Clint but he’s under complete control of the demon. Your friend is still in there. Dean would have indicated if he had seen any fatal wounds that the demon was trying to hide. If we can exorcise the demon fast enough, he’ll be okay physically. It’ll be the mental crap afterwards that may need more than some aspirin.” Sam shivered.

“Clint’s seen his share of ‘mental crap’,” Natasha said gently. Sam nodded at her in assurance.

They all took deep breaths, looking to Sam and Steve for instructions. 

“Cas, Kev, stay back with Bruce and be ready to help him with any wounds that come out of this.” Sam stood straight and tall, the authority radiating from him as he outlined the plan he believed would work best. “Expect minimal damage, but best to prepare for the worst. Natasha, you should be hiding outside near the entrance in case he makes a run for it. Thor, if can you step outside and try to get behind him, we can box him in with more strength. Steve, you and Tony should be on the inside with me, to help stop him from getting too far inside once we get him over the threshold. We have to have him on this side of the door before the exorcism is complete so we can keep the demon from going back and telling the others where the bunker is.” They looked to Steve and he nodded. “Okay, let’s go!”

Steve stopped Sam and removed the handcuffs silently. Sam gave him a questioning look but said nothing as Steve gave a slight smile and gestured for the hunter to continue into action. Sam nodded at the trust he had been shown and squared his shoulders.

Tony pulled up the satellite imagery and watched a dark car turn onto the service road that passed outside.

“They’re almost here,” he told them.

Natasha broke for the stairs to make it outside and into hiding before they could spot her. Thor waited on the top landing for his quick exit. Cas, Kevin and Bruce moved back into the library, out of the way. Steve and Tony stood behind Sam at the top of the stairs.

Tony pulled up the camera that he had installed earlier. It showed the car come to a stop and the two men get out of the car. Dean carried a white meal bag in one hand, one finger of that hand was twirling the impala keys. He had two large green duffels thrown across his other shoulder. Clint was carrying a few duffel bags thrown across his shoulder as well. They walked down to the bunker door, Clint waiting for Dean to knock, which he did, then Dean stepped back to let Clint go in first.

The door ground open and Thor stepped out hugging both men.

“You have made it!” he boomed. “Welcome, my brother!” Clint flinched and then appeared to go with it, with a laugh. Thor whirled him around 180 degrees so that Clint landed directly in front of the threshold and Thor was closer to the car. 

Sam stepped up to the top of the stairs. He stood just inside the threshold, maybe 10 feet from Clint.

“Christo.” Sam said after catching Dean’s eyes for a split second. The demon that possessed Clint flinched then smiled evilly, his eyes flashing to all black. Steve and Tony, who stood just a step behind Sam, gasped.

“Sam Winchester,” the demon growled from Clint’s mouth. “I’ve been looking forward to this.” 

The demon whipped out one of Clint’s blades, throwing it at Sam’s chest. Not expecting that, Sam couldn’t duck fast enough, but Steve’s shield was. It interceded between Sam’s chest and the dagger quite nicely, deflecting to the side. Sam stepped backwards and Steve stepped further in between them. The demon realized with his first step towards the threshold of the door that the entire building was warded and he immediately began screeching, turning back towards Thor and Dean. Sam’s voice started from behind Steve.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas omnis incursio infernalis adversarii…,” Sam intoned with a strong voice. The demon roared and turned back to Sam, reaching to pull out the gun from the thigh holster. He pointed the gun and fired. If it had been Clint controlling it, it would have been swifter and smoother, but the muscle memory was enough that it was still going to be deadly accurate. Again, Steve was fast enough with his shield to deflect the bullet, but the movement made him bump into Sam, throwing him against the railing behind them. Behind Thor, Dean picked up where Sam had left off. 

“Omnis legio! Omnis con... potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii. Omnis legio! Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica! Ergo, Draco maledicte et omnis…,” Dean intoned. The demon-possessed Clint growled as Natasha dropped down on his head and kicked the gun out of his hand. Thor tried to grab him in a bear hug to subdue him, but was shoved back by some unseen force, causing him to knock Dean back against the car. 

“...legio diabolica, adiuramus te! Exorcizamus te,” Sam continued, picking up from where Dean dropped off. The demon then ran at the doorway, ducking Natasha’s punch, and rolling agilely past Steve’s grab for him. “Omnis immundus spiritus,” The demon was at Sam’s feet now and he grabbed the hunter’s ankles. It cackled even as it screeched due to the pain from the warding’s interaction with it. “omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii--” The demon added his telekinetic powers to Clint’s strength and yanked Sam down and sideways, away from the railing. 

The hunter tried to catch himself on the railing, but the force made him miss by a few inches and he gasped as he felt himself falling over. Tony and Steve were both too slow this time as the demon twisted viciously and shoved Sam away from them and down the stairs, cackling as Sam crashed and tumbled down the staircase all the way to sprawl at the bottom. Bruce, Cas, and Kevin made a distressed sound and ran towards where Sam was sprawled unmoving on the map room floor. 

Steve dropped down, the shield pressing into Clint’s chest. Natasha and Thor piled on top of his waist and legs as he squirmed and screeched.

Dean now ran in, yelling the last part, “Omnis legio! Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica! Ergo, Draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te!” Clint roared and gagged, then the thick black smoke poured out of his mouth and nose. It tried to flow out the door but the warding there made the smoke sizzle. The more it pounded, the more it burned away. Within seconds the demon screech faded away completely as the black smoke had dissipated. 

Tony now also ran down the stairs to meet the others over Sam.

Clint lay on his back just inside the bunker doorway and shook under his three teammates. He groaned, his eyes rolling back.

“Everyone inside, close the door, now!” Dean yelled. Steve pulled Clint further in, forcing Thor and Natasha to move off and Thor slammed the door closed. Dean pulled out some holy water from a duffel and splashed Clint’s face. Clint only frowned up at him as his eyes focused over Steve’s shoulder on Dean. The hunter clapped Steve and Thor on the shoulder to let them know Clint was okay now. Natasha waited until they had backed off before she knelt beside him and pulled him up with her. He was still shaking so Natasha was wrapped her arms around him.

“Sam! Can you hear me?” Bruce said loudly. They turned to look over the railing and there lay Sam sprawled on the floor on his back, eyes closed. The men had gently turned him over and pulled him a little away from the bottom of the staircase. Dean raced past all of them to get to his brother. 

As he knelt by him, Sam groaned and then blinked his eyes up into Dean’s. 

“Is Clint okay?” he asked. Dean smiled and looked up the railing, then pointed there for Sam to see. Clint and Natasha leaned over the railing next to a shaken but smiling Steve and Thor.

“I’m good. I’m me,” Clint said, giving a shaky smile to the once again prone man.

Bruce was feeling for any broken bones or new bumps or bruises. Natasha helped Clint down the stairs and into one of the comfortable chairs in the library. 

“Ow,” Sam said when Bruce touched a bump high on the side of his head.

“Freaking monster magnet,” Dean shook his head. 

“We really need to find a way to shorten that exorcism,” Sam groaned.

“If anyone can figure out how, that would be you, little brother.” Dean patted Sam’s cheek gently before leaning back on his heels.

“How’s Sam?” called down Steve from the railing. Bruce looked up.

“Concussion and some bruising, I think. Nothing broken,” Bruce said to all of them. Sam gave a thumbs up and a smile. 

“Clint’s demon free,” Sam said to anyone in general. “I’m fine.” Steve and Thor came down to his side. Steve smiled. 

“I think we’re all in agreement,” Steve proclaimed, looking around at his teammates, “that it’s official that the Winchester brothers are hunters, not criminals, and free to go.” They had all seen the brothers jump in without question and save them all. Each of them nodded. Sam and Dean looked at each other with shock. Cas and Kevin laughed and hugged. Dean turned to shake Cap’s hand in thanks as Bruce eased his brother up off the floor. Sam almost squeaked, when once again, Thor scooped Sam into his arms. Dean snorted and again shook his head.

“Thor, straight to bed,” Bruce tells him, “I’ll be in shortly to check on him.” Sam rolled his eyes to once again be cargo but understood that the god of thunder was seriously overprotective of him right now.

Bruce turned to Clint. After a quick once over, he determined there were no physical injuries, barring some light bruising. He did take in the shaking and closed off look he was taking on and offered some Xanax to Natasha, instructing her to get him into a warm shower, get two of these pills into him, then to get him into bed and stay there with him, to let someone know if she had to leave for any reason as he didn’t need to be alone for a while.

“How did you know?” Clint asked Dean before Natasha could usher him from the room.

“I caught the tail from the airport. I figured you did too. When I saw the guy follow you into the bathroom,” Dean shrugged, “I figured if he was one of your type of bad guys, you’d be able to handle him. If he was one of my type of bad guys, I would have to get you away from the civilians at least. You came out but didn’t say anything about having a body to clean up or calling backup or anything, so I suspected. Then you kept staring at me like you were happy to see me instead of the usual ‘we’re on a mission’ look. You also told me to call with an ETA and called him Sammy, not Sam. Nobody calls him that but me and demons ‘cause they’re asshats and they know it pisses me off. Then you didn’t insist on speakerphone. Final nail was the music. I should have gotten at least a scowl or you switching the tapes or something, but you just smiled and let it go.”

Clint nodded as he shivered.

“I was fighting it the whole time, you know?” Clint said softly. Dean patted his shoulder. 

“Yeah, I figured. I’ve never been possessed by a demon but Sam has. He shared the whole gruesome experience with me. You get some rest and we’ll get you an amulet that’ll keep the sons of bitches out as long as you wear it. You’re safe as long as you’re in here.”

Natasha gave Dean a grateful look as she turned with her arm around Clint’s waist and helped Clint out of the room. Cas followed close behind, carrying their bags as pointed out by Steve, to direct them to the shower room and a room where they could rest after a quick hug to Dean.

Thor, carrying Sam, with Kevin at his heels, made it to the bedroom where they deposited him gently on the bed. Sam groaned just a little, a little nauseous from the swift movement. Thor frowned that Sam had gotten injured when all of the superheroes had been prepared but had still been unable to protect the man from an attack. Kevin began to help Sam out of his day clothes with Thor holding the young man up for Kevin to remove or add clothing. Sam’s concussion kept him just out of it enough that he had no time to get embarrassed about what Kevin and Thor were doing. They were nearly finished when Bruce and Dean came in. Kevin backed out of the room after a brief hug to Dean. Thor also backed out but stopped at the doorway, needing to see Sam being cared for.

Dean sat down on the edge of the bed, smiling so big his face looked painful. He grabbed Sam up in a fierce hug and then held him away from him so he could get a good look at him. 

“How are you feeling, Sammy?” Sam groaned lightly.

“Like I fell down a flight of metal stairs.” Dean and Bruce chuckled at that. “Guess it was too much to ask for anything to be hitchless, huh?”

“It went off with only minimal hitches,” Dean replied. “But you’re looking a hell of a lot better.” Bruce filled him on the status of the treatments and about some future testing just to confirm, but that he was confident that it would just be a precautionary measure. Dean hugged his brother again before moving over to let Bruce take his spot as Sam lay back down on the pillow. 

Bruce asked some questions to determine how concussed he was and was pleased to note that it wasn’t as bad as he expected. Dean smirked.

“Yeah, Sammy’s princess hair takes a lot of the impact.” Dean flinched back playfully as Sam swiped at him. 

Sam hissed from the headache that had flared up on the movement. Bruce hadn’t found any blood when he’d checked his head, but from the delayed responses and general grogginess, they knew he needed to rest and stay far away from trouble for a while. Sam groaned again.

“Sam,” Bruce prodded him, “How about I give you a good painkiller so you’ll sleep through tonight and feel better in the morning, okay?” Sam rolled his eyes over to Bruce and understood the actual question.

“Maybe just this once,” he muttered. Bruce smirked lightly as he injected something into the IV port. 

“And when you wake up, some tests but you should be good to go.” Sam sighed in relief and quickly became lax and pliant. He draped his arm over his eyes and breathed deeply. Dean laid his hand on Sam’s chest, waiting for his brother to fall asleep. Once he was out, he asked Bruce what that was about. Bruce looked sheepish.

“I gave him too much painkiller on the flight over and ended up sedating him. I told him I would never do that again unless he asked for it.” Bruce shrugged and closed his medical bag. Dean patted Sam’s hand, pulling a light blanket over his brother before stepping out. 

“How long will he be out?” Dean asked at the door, looking back at the sleeping giant. 

“I’d hazard a guess at 5-6 hours. He does need to sleep.” Dean nodded in agreement.

“Good night, Sasquatch.” They closed the door behind them and turned to Thor who was standing just outside the bedroom door. 

“I will remain here,” Thor stated, planting Mjolnir at his feet by the closed door. Dean tilted his head at the god. “Your brother is weakened and vulnerable, Dean. I cannot leave him while there are supernatural things close at hand that could attack Samuel.” 

“It’s Sam, not Samuel. Samuel was our grandfather who used Sam when he was soulless for nefarious purposes. Just call him Sam. And this bunker is warded against the supernatural. Safest place on the planet.” Thor nodded but refused to budge.

Bruce and Dean finally relented and told Thor to come find them once he woke up, Dean giving his room number to Thor in case he was in bed when that happened. They then left the Asgardian standing as sentinel. 

Next, they found the room where Clint and Natasha had ended up, at the end of the hall, closest to the garage. 

Natasha came to the door and spoke quietly to Bruce, letting him know that Clint had forgone a shower, but had downed the pills, even as much as he loathed being drugged, and was trying to sleep. She gave him just enough information that he could come to the general conclusion that this was different than when he was freed from Loki, but she had it all under control. Dean listened discretely, not wanting to interfere. Final diagnosis sounded like shock to him. 

They returned to the library to find Steve, Tony, and Kevin sitting around talking quietly. They looked up at Dean and then Bruce.

“How are the boys?” Tony asked. Bruce and Dean fell into chairs around the table.

“Clint is suffering from shock, not quite the same as after what Loki did to him. Since he didn’t actually kill anyone this time, a warm shower, some Xanax, a good friend, and some sleep should work wonders for him. I’ll check on him in the morning after I follow up with Sam, unless Natasha lets me know something’s up sooner. As for Sam, mild concussion and some bruising. I gave him enough painkiller to knock him out for five or six hours. He did request it.”

“Yeah, when Clint yanked him down and then threw him sideways of all things, hearing that banging all the way down the stairs, I was about the freak out myself.” Tony said with a cringe. “Hope he doesn’t blame himself for this one too.”

“Clint or Sam?” Dean asked, eyeing Tony. Tony shrugged, meaning either or. “Something bad happens out of their control and it must be their fault, right?” Steve, Tony, and Bruce nodded. Kevin shook his head and yawned.

“Look I’m glad you guys made it and saved Clint from the demon. But I’m exhausted so I’m going to bed. Anyone want an escort to help you find a room?” Kevin stood up. Both Bruce and Tony nodded, standing up. They retrieved their luggage from the pile and followed Kevin out, leaving Steve and Dean sitting at the table.

Dean looked at Steve, then rubbed the back of his neck. 

“So, what’s next, Cap?” he asked quietly. Steve looked at the green-eyed man and sighed.

“Honestly, with everything we’ve seen over the past few days, I’m convinced. It’ll definitely take some getting used to, but we’re happy to know someone is out there protecting the planet from the things our team didn’t even know about until a few days ago.” Dean reached out and shook Steve’s hand again, in mutual understanding and respect. 

“Well, Steve, let me show you to a room where you can sleep tonight.” Steve smiled and grabbed his bag, following Dean out of the room. 

****

That night, Steve had been too wired to rest and wandered the halls in the quiet of the night. He passed Thor sitting guard outside Sam’s room, exchanging silent nods, and then headed down to where Kevin had pointed out the old gym, with punching bags and barbell weights.

This bunker was suited for him. It was filled with nostalgia and it was comforting to the contrast of the whole new world of the supernatural that had been opened to him in the past few days. He had thought it was jarring to become a superhero and then to meet other superheroes, and then aliens, but this new revelation had him thrown off center. Not only was the reality of the supernatural weighing on him, but the stories of Sam and Dean’s lives. What he had originally discounted, he was now revisiting with a fresh perspective. He found some tape and stepped up to the punching bag, his concentration on where to go from here. 

While Dean had done most of the talking and was more lively than his brother, Steve had seen Sam come into their midst as a husk, a dying man, and within a week, had transformed into a confident leader and strategist, refusing to let his own current state be the weak link. When it had come time for battle, he had stood up in front, putting his life on the line to save Clint, even knowing he was vulnerable. And it didn’t go over Steve’s head that his first question had been asking if Clint was okay, even though he himself had been injured. Dean was Sam’s lifeline, providing the extra strength he needed when everything was going against them, as Sam was Dean’s lifeline. He’d finally come to the conclusion that Dean was indeed the brawn and Sam was the brains, although they could switch it up as needed. They made a great team.

Tony was also still awake. He was laying in his borrowed room, his tablet open, doing some research on the supernatural based on what he’d heard the Winchesters discuss already. There was a lot of contradictory information. He wondered if he could employ Sam to help compile a database of each type with their strengths, characteristics and weaknesses. The youngest hunter had already impressed both he and Bruce without even realizing it. Between the ancient technology they had learned to use adeptly and his skills in hacking, Tony also smiled to think about how he had been nonplussed by the admission that Sam could read and speak multiple languages like it was something anyone could do. And it all appeared to be self-taught as the only records of a language class was Intermediary Spanish in some random public middle school. 

He had seen the variety of languages in the library and the astounding organization of the card catalog. He’d followed several cross references on materials and found them searchable by multiple terms so that even those without intimate knowledge of the materials could locate something specific. 

He was certain Sam would have been a kickass lawyer and would most certainly be a fucking awesome research assistant. He was conferring with Jarvis on how to get Sam and Dean’s records cleared or at least remove them from the FBI’s Most Wanted List. If what they had done today for Clint was any indication of how selfless these guys were, he’d do anything he could to help them do their jobs with less stress. Maybe some funding from Stark Industries would be helpful too.

Bruce, Kevin, and Cas were peacefully sleeping in their rooms. Thor, not needing nearly the amount of sleep of the humans, sat in the chair in the hallway with the book of Norse legends in his lap. Sam lay in his drugged sleep, while Dean lay with his headphones on trying to ease the tension of the past few days out of body so he could sleep. Natasha lay awake, her arms wrapped around her sleeping best friend, the shaking having finally stopped after the hot shower and the pills he had balked at until she’d given him that look. She drifted off, being awoken occasionally when Clint twitched around a bad dream, but gently stroking his back eased him back into restfulness and she was happy to provide this after what he’d been through. When she was awake, waiting for him to calm, her mind always turned to Sam, the gentle giant, who seemed to have won over all of her teammates.

Thor was obviously enthralled with him because of the hammer thing. Tony and Bruce were intrigued by him being a medical miracle, as well as humbly intelligent. Steve was harder to read but he definitely appreciated Sam’s polite, soft spoken intelligence and confident leadership skills, over Dean’s brash machismo. Clint, however, had found a kindred spirit in Dean and had told her a few times in the first few days that he was sad that they were serial killers because he was sure they could be buddies. That was now cleared up so her best friend was going to add another person to his snark posse, along with Tony. Clint’s strongest reaction to Sam had been what they had heard and seen about the younger brother’s horrible past. Clint avoided discussing it by stating again and again that he’s ‘freaking tall, Nat’, which was an understatement. Their pasts of use and abuse, as well as their faulty sense of guilt for everything notwithstanding, they just didn’t click like he did with the older brother.

For herself, she had found Dean to be too much like Clint, without the honest emotions and she was happy to let her friend dive headfirst into that mess. Sam, however, was so open, friendly, and self-deprecating, she couldn’t help but want to sit with him and just talk. She could tell he was quick-witted but had old-fashioned sensibilities. She had once been attracted to Steve but dating teammates was the worst idea in the history of bad ideas. And turns out Steve was still in love with his first girlfriend anyway, so there was that. From the books and his and Dean’s own stories, it seemed Sam was straight, maybe bisexual, but had been destined to have his heart broken again and again.

Tomorrow would be a different day and there were new mission parameters now that the targets had been vetted. Tomorrow, the team would discuss new options and decide on either just returning their own lives and letting the Winchesters go on with theirs, staying a while to learn more about the supernatural and this hidden side of society as long as there were no immediate threats that needed the Avengers, or perhaps finding a way to team up with them to add the supernatural to their already growing list of foes. She smiled to herself that perhaps she could manipulate her conversation with Steve to the one she wanted.


	11. New Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Working together finally!

The sun was just rising above the horizon when the first of them woke up and wandered into the kitchen area. Thankfully there were no windows to show the sunrise or these early risers would have grumbled and grumped more as they sought out the coffee pot. 

Bruce was first, making his own tea first, then setting the coffee pot to perk because he knew his teammates would be desperate for it when they made it vertical. He was pleasantly surprised that there was a decent selection of herbal teas in the bunker and was sipping a nice Darjeeling green tea when Tony stumbled in. 

“Good morning, Tones,” he said, smiling. Tony was still wearing the same outfit from yesterday and appeared to just be trying to orient himself in this strange kitchen.

“Ah, yes. Morning,” he grumbled, shuffling to the brewing coffee pot, flipping over one of the white coffee cups to fill once it was complete.

“Up all night, were you?” Tony blinked at him and scrubbed his face with both his hands.

“Yeah, Jarvis and I were looking into getting the authorities off Sam and Dean’s backs. And trying to set some things set up to make it easier for them to do their jobs without having to worry about grifting or credit card fraud anymore.” Bruce gave him the happy puppy smile that Tony always associated with any time he did anything philanthropic, in which he expected nothing in return, which he rarely did.

“Aw, Tone, are you setting them up on your payroll or with some tech?” Bruce asked. 

“Either. Both,” he said with a half smile. “Whichever they’ll accept.”

“Who will accept what?” Kevin asked as he came in, still in his pajamas, Cas right behind him, already dressed in black slacks and a white button-down shirt, possibly the ones from yesterday. Tony and Bruce exchanged looks.

“We were just discussing if there was a way we could help Sam and Dean out,” Tony said. “I mean, if we could offer financial or technical assistance to smooth the way for them, and you guys, of course. I’m sure it’d be good for both our teams. And the world.” Tony smiled at them. Kevin never faltered.

“Yeah, whatever helps, man,” he said as he went to the stove and refrigerator to pull out items to make breakfast. “The guys could use a hand with all the crap that goes with having to anonymously save the world all the time. I wouldn’t say no to having some help stocking the fridge and food storage. It’s not easy doing it on dummy cards all the time when you’re stuck having to visit the same stores all the time.”

“Done!” Tony smiled, throwing his hand up, expressing the ease with which they’d agreed. “Today, we make a trip for supplies. And I’m paying.”

“No arguments here,” Kevin moving his full attention to the massive spread of eggs, bacon, toast, sausage, and potatoes he was portioning out and prepping. 

“Thank you,” Cas said, finally speaking up. “I’m sure Dean and Sam will be happy to reimburse you.” Tony held up a hand.

“Nope. Gift. No need to pay it back.” Cas made a confused face and tilted his head.

“That is very generous of you.” Tony just shrugged and drank his first cup of coffee. 

They all turned to watch as Sam shuffled in, Thor following closely behind. The young man’s long hair was in wild disarray from sleeping and his eyes weren’t fully open yet. His slippered feet shuffled, barely lifting off the floor. He made a beeline for the coffeepot. Thor stopped just inside the door and nodded at everyone else.

Sam had just grabbed a coffee cup and was filling it when Kevin rolled his eyes and stepped over to take it away.

“No coffee, Sam,” Kevin warned him. The man blinked at him and then grunted in disagreement. Kevin moved the cup out of his reach and went to the fridge to pull out a blue Gatorade. “You know that Dean won’t let you have coffee until you’re completely healed.” He plopped it into one of his friend’s hands and turned back to the stove. 

Sam’s sluggish brain took a moment to comprehend what had happened. When it finally registered, he gave Kevin a look of betrayal, then opened his mouth to whine. But he stopped, also realizing who was standing there staring at him, and huffed before dropping roughly into a chair at the table and opening the Gatorade for a sip. Bruce and Tony hid amused smiles behind their cups.

“How are you feeling, Sam?” Cas asked, sitting opposite him at the table. Sam sat the drink down and shrugged.

“Okay, I guess. Still tired but I figured some coffee might help, but apparently Dean has everyone on little brother watch. Again.” Sam gave the stink eye to Kevin, who completely ignored him.

“Dean only has your best interest in mind,” Cas said. “As I am now human, I understand better the limitations humans have and you must let us take care of you so you can be restored.” Cas was so earnest that his friend couldn’t be upset.

“Um, thanks, Cas. I’m just ready to be doing things again. Laying on my back all day, letting everyone else wait on me, is really making me feel useless.” Cas nodded.

“I understand, but it’s okay to be useless for now. With everything you’ve done for humanity and Heaven, I believe your balance is tipped far to the side of good and a short period of being useless will not do much in the way of changing that fact.” Sam tipped his head and smiled.

“Thanks,” he said softly, embarrassed by the short, awkward, but honest speech.

“You certainly weren’t useless last night,” Tony said in an offhand way. The hunter turned to look at him with slight confusion. “The exorcism, saving Clint,” he elaborated. “Surely you remember that?”

“No, I remember,” he started.

“But that’s every day for us, right, Sammy?” Dean finished for him as he sauntered in, freshly showered and fully dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. He smiled and ruffled Sam’s hair as he passed him going to the coffee pot. Sam slapped his hands away from his head. Dean spotted the Gatorade in his brother’s hands and gave a lowkey wink and thumbs up to Kevin, who he knew was the only person who could manage to get his brother to accept the sports drink rather than coffee without a full-blown hissy fit.

“Even still,” Bruce said, “That doesn’t mean you’re useless. We certainly couldn’t have done what you guys did.” Sam waved his hand dismissively.

“Yes, you can. Just gotta teach you the exorcism and what to watch out for. It’s easy.” Dean shrugged in agreement.

“Okay,” Tony interjected. “We couldn’t have done it last night. Which definitely makes you not useless.” Dean saluted with his coffee at that.

“Kev, how’s breakfast coming?” Dean asked, sitting next to Sam, who twisted his shoulder away from Dean’s poking fingers. 

“Another 20 minutes if you guys want to get the rest of the gang up and moving. Thor, want to come pull down the plates and silverware for me?” Kevin smiled at the man still standing by the door. He was still in his armor with the hammer beside him. He had heard the god’s booming voice last night, so he was amazed at how quiet he was being right now.

“Steve is probably on his way already,” Bruce said, “but I don’t know about Clint and Tasha. Depends on how he’s feeling this morning. But she’ll probably get him to come eat sometime today.” Sam stood up, sealing his drink.

“I’ll go talk to Clint. Unless you want to, Dean?” He watched Dean throw up his hands and lower his head in submission to Sam’s offer. He honestly thought Sam’s calm demeanor and shared possession aspect would do better right now. He had seen how shaken up the guy was last night before his red headed friend had hauled him away to rest.

“Go for it. I think he may be all Dean’d out after that long trip yesterday.” Kevin and Tony chuckled.

“I would be,” Tony smirked. Thor had turned to follow Sam, but Cas beat him to it and walked a few steps behind him, out into the hallway.

“He’s looking tired but a lot better,” Dean commented.

“Hmmm, yeah, I want to rerun his bloodwork and do a few more tests, but I agree,” Bruce said thoughtfully. “He’s doing amazingly well.” 

“I told ya in the hospital, doc,” Dean smirked, turning back to his coffee, “He’s a survivor.”

*****

Sam and Cas did indeed pass Steve in the hallway on their way to where Natasha and Clint had spent the night. Steve stopped and inquired into Sam’s health. The hunter couldn’t help but run his hand through his hair when he responded with his typical response of being better than before, but he’d be better with coffee. At which point Cas filled him in from their recent conversation in the kitchen and explained where they were going. Steve smiled and let them continue on, heading to the kitchen where the rest of them were currently ensconced. 

At the door to the assassins’ room, Sam stopped to listen before knocking lightly. He heard nothing before or after his knock. He waited 30 seconds and started to knock again but the door cracked open. Natasha looked at the two men, then behind her at something. She appeared to be thinking and then opened the door to allow them to come inside. As Sam leaned his head in the door before even lifting a foot to move, he saw the archer’s hunched shoulders where he sat on the floor in the corner of the room. Natasha smiled up at the tall man encouragingly but put a hand on Cas’ chest to move him back out into the hallway before following him and closing the door on the two men.

“Hey, uh, Clint,” Sam said gently, glancing back at the closing door. The man sitting on the floor lifted his head and sighed.

“Hey, Sam. You’re looking pretty good for being in Death’s crosshairs a few days ago.” Clint’s voice was steady, but Sam still felt the quiver that was just there under the surface.

“Yeah, well, according to Dean, I’m too stubborn to die,” Sam walked over and slid down to sit next to Clint, folding his arms on his knees. Clint scoffed and let his head fall back against the wall. “How are you doing, man?” 

Clint didn’t answer for a few minutes, just taking deep breaths, fully aware of the quiet giant at his side. 

“Adjusting,” Clint finally said. “Took me a while to adjust my worldview to encompass superheroes, then gods when I met Thor, then Loki and being mind-controlled. Then I had to adjust to aliens when the Chitauri invaded. Now I’m adjusting to the supernatural, demons, and being possessed.” He shuddered once. Sam just nodded next to him and leaned his head back too.

“Did Dean tell you that the one time I was possessed before we got the tattoos it was a girl demon?” Clint snorted and looked over at him. 

“No, he did not. There were stories about you guys as kids and some of the sillier of the things you guys have fought, but not that.” Clint felt bad for it but snickered. Sam just sighed and smiled himself.

“It definitely wasn’t funny at the time, but afterwards, it was. Dean said, ‘Dude, you totally had a girl all up in you.’ And any time he could bring it up, he did. Still won’t let me live it down.” Clint laughed out loud at Sam’s awful Dean impression for a few minutes before wiping his eyes and looking over at Sam seriously.

“So, what happened?” he asked gently. The young man shrugged and glanced between him and the ceiling.

“Her name was Meg. She was kinder to me mentally than whichever one grabbed you, I guess.” Clint eyed him curiously. “I wasn’t aware at all that I was possessed when she was in control. I went to bed like normal and then just was suddenly awake. A week later, in a strange city and covered in blood. I still had my cell phone though, so I called Dean, who had been freaking the hell out. He shagged ass to come get me. He helped me figure out that I had been tracking and killing hunters but neither of us knew about the possession yet. Which is how Meg got the drop on Dean and knocked him out.

“She then tracked down Jo, a good friend of ours, a hunter that had grown up like us, raised by hunters. Meg didn’t get to kill her though, just a little terrorizing. Her endgame was to get Dean to attempt to kill me so they could turn us against each other and drag me to the dark side. Dean figured out the demon possession and stopped me, well, Meg, from killing Jo. He even took a bullet for me. Meg shot him, but he didn’t give up on me.” Sam sighed deeply. 

“Bobby trapped me and Meg in a devil’s trap when Meg apparently decided to kill him too, but Bobby’s smarter than that. He’s survived a lot. Hunter’s don’t get old unless they’re really smart and capable. Well, he captured me and then he and Dean exorcised Meg. I wasn’t aware of any of it. But Dean was freaked out enough that when I was me again, he still punched me.” He laughed softly. “Next freaking chance, we got these tattoos. Permanent anti-possession sigils.” He pulled down the neck of his shirt to show it to Clint, not realizing that he had already seen Dean’s at the Tower. Clint nodded.

“Dean said something about an amulet you guys had that would do the same thing as long as we wear them.” He sounded tired but hopeful.

“Yep. Got a whole bunch in the trunk of the impala.”

“Don’t you mean ‘Baby’?” Clint asked with a roll of his eyes. Sam laughed out loud this time. 

“She’s only Dean’s ‘Baby’. We did call her home until we found this place, but she’s got her own spot in the garage.” They nodded together. After a minute of silence, Sam spoke again. “But I have an all-important question now.” The other man raised his eyebrow. “Are you ready for breakfast? Kevin’s almost done and he gets pissy if it gets cold.” Sam smirked and stood up. He held out a hand to Clint, who rolled his head forwards, then took Sam’s hand and stood up next to him.

“You aren’t interested in my story?” Clint asked, stopping before they opened the door to the hallway.

“Only if and when you’re ready to tell it. From what I heard last night, you were aware the entire time and dude, that’s just horrifying.” Sam shuddered. “But at least Dean was with you and you didn’t end up killing anyone.”

‘Not this time,’ Clint thought instantly but didn’t speak it out loud. 

Clint gave a short nod, clapped his hand on Sam’s arm, and then pulled open the door to see Natasha and Cas apparently having a staring contest in the hallway. Neither of them looked angry but neither was about to give way either. Sam huffed and stepped between then, turning Cas towards the kitchen.

“Come on, Cas,” he said smiling apologetically over his shoulder at Natasha. “If we take any more time getting back, Dean’s going to come with a hunting party.” Natasha and Clint shared an amused look as Clint put his arm around her waist and pulled her with him to follow them back to the kitchen. 

*****

Over breakfast, Sam and Bruce having only had a bowl of cut fruit that Steve had prepared for them after Kevin let him know that the youngest hunter was not really a greasy breakfast guy, conversation had been kept light and minimal, the kitchen crowded as every surface was covered with plates as some sat (Sam, Clint, Bruce, Kevin, and Natasha), some stood leaning against the counter (Tony and Dean), some sat on the floor against the wall with their plates on their knees (Cas and Thor, who had changed into normal Midgardian clothes). After everyone had eaten their fill, Kevin got up to clean, but Thor and Steve had insisted on taking on that duty as he had done all the preparation. He threw up his hands with a smile, happy to have someone else handle that. 

Dean announced that his first job of the day would be to get Baby into the garage and raid the car trunk for the anti-possession amulets, before he headed out of the bunker with Kevin in tow as they both had the tattoos. Bruce and Tony insisted that they take Sam into the bunker infirmary, set up the equipment they had brought along, and run updated tests on the young man to see if anything further was needed. Clint and Natasha wanted to explore the bunker, so Cas went with them as a guide. 

By the time Dean and Kevin had returned with the amulets on rope necklaces and the curse boxes he had meant to lock up in the secure storage the last time, Steve and Thor were finished with cleaning the kitchen and had wandered down to check out the gym and firing range. Kevin took the boxes to the storage room lockup while Dean counted out seven of the amulets and began making his way around to find everyone who needed one. His first stop was the infirmary under the entry stairs where Sam sat on the bed, holding gauze in the crook of his elbow while he chatted with Tony and Bruce. They glanced around when he stepped through the doorway.

“Sammy,” Dean said loudly, “How’s it looking?” He pulled out one of the amulets for each of the Avengers and handed them over to the scientists. Bruce slid his over his head without a second look, returning his eyes to the bloodwork results on the tablet. Tony, however, stared at the design of the amulet for a moment, raising an eyebrow at the two men. 

“Pretty good, I think,” Sam replied shrugging his shoulders. Bruce looked up and smiled.

“Well, without a baseline of before the Trials irradiated you, it’s hard to tell what your ‘normal’ is, much less if you’re getting back to it since your chemistry is nothing like I’ve seen, but based on the first results that were presented to me at the hospital in Randolph, the difference is nothing short of amazing. You’ll still need a few weeks to recover fully, but you’re the first person to have been cured from that extensive amount of radiation of any kind, much less in so short a period.” Dean beamed at his brother and clapped Bruce on the shoulder.

“Dude, hearing that was totally worth being arrested for.” Sam rolled his eyes and Tony smirked. “I can even forgive Chuck for those damn books if they helped in any way to bring us together.”

“I agree,” Bruce chimed in, “it was a fantastic coincidence, but the results of that chance meeting have been very positive.” Tony and Sam had matching looks of thoughtfulness.

“So, what metal is this amulet made from?” Tony asked, spinning it in his fingers. Dean and Sam exchanged a look.

“Silver, and before you ask, there’s no spell on it,” Dean replied. “It’s the design itself that holds the magic. It’s a celtic forever knot in the shape of a pentagram. We added the flames to the design of the tattoo so that we’d come off less Satan worshippers and more heavy metal fans.”

“The power in the tattoos is the same as in the amulets though,” Sam interjected. “They stop demons from getting in. Bobby actually did the original research on the sigil. He had to sift through a lot of bogus information before he landed on something solid. But his work has saved a lot of hunters lives.”

“Interesting,” Tony said, pulling the amulet over his head. “You and I need to talk more about how you tell what’s real information and what’s not when you’re researching.” Bruce looked up with interest. 

“Sure,” Sam said, shrugging one shoulder. “Sometimes it’s more about who wrote down the information than the information itself. See, if the originator has a reputation for-,” Dean interrupted him there.

“Before Sam gets into one of his professor lectures about the difference between good and bad research, I’m going to leave you three brainiacs to it. But you guys are totally on my Christmas list.” He pointed at Tony and Bruce, winked at Sam, then left them looking for Cas and the other four Avengers. The three of them chuckled at each other and then went back to discussing research techniques and reviewing the other readouts that were coming up from the other tests that had been run.

Dean caught Kevin in the kitchen, writing up a grocery list. 

“Hey, Kev, I heard Thor loves his poptarts, so get a bunch of those. I don’t think the flavor matters,” Dean said as he grabbed a beer and popped the cap off. “And get me some more beer.”

“Right,” Kevin muttered, never slowing down his list making. “If you’re looking for the others, I heard them down towards the gym, I think.” Dean clapped him on the back and headed that way. 

Sure enough, within a short distance from the gym, he heard voices, as well as punches on the bag. He sauntered through the door, sipping from his beer and found Thor and Steve working out, chatting about the existence of demons and ghosts. Thor, who was lifting weights, was explaining that such things had always existed in the Nine Realms but they did not have dedicated men whose sole purpose was to eliminate them. Steve was listening intently as he punched the bag but stopped when he noticed the hunter standing in the doorway. Dean waved at them with the beer in his hand.

“Don’t stop just because of me,” Dean said, pulling out two of the necklaces. “But while you are, these are the anti-possession amulets I was telling you guys about. You wear ‘em and nothing can get in.” He handed each of them one.

“You are most generous with this magical protection,” Thor proclaimed as he slid it over his head. “I will wear this amulet until I am called to Valhalla, honored by your gift.” He pulled Dean in for a hug and then released him gently, a smile on his face.

“Yes, thanks,” Steve said, pulling it over his own head. “I guess this is kind of like a cross. Instead of a sign of faith, it’s a charm to protect the wearer.” 

“Actually, the cross is also a sign of protection against demons. But only for those who believe in it. This amulet protects everyone, even if you don’t believe in it.” Dean smiled at Steve’s look of astonishment. “Having to know all the different religions, rites, rituals, deities, and symbols kind of goes with being a hunter. Sam’s better with the whole remembering what ritual or symbol goes with which religion or deity, but I retain enough to not die if we have to stop a pissed off spirit or face down some ancient creature.” Steve gave a half smile.

“When you see Tasha and Clint, can you let them know I’d like to meet in the library in 30 minutes? You, Sam, Castiel, and Kevin should attend as well.” Dean saluted with his beer bottle and headed deeper into the bunker, towards the firing range.

“Are not Sam and Dean Winchester exceptional men?” Thor said to Steve before returning to his weights. Steve stared at the empty doorway a little longer, before glancing at Thor.

“They’re something all right.” He punched the bag again, adding the most recent events to his view of the hunters.

A few doors down and Dean turned into the firing range, where Clint, Natasha and Cas were gathered. Clint had his bow out and was creating a smiley face with arrows on the target the furthest down the range. Natasha was making a frowny face with her gun on her own target a little closer than Clint’s. Cas was standing behind them, watching with interest. He turned when his friend came in.

“Dean,” the former angel said, eyeing the handful of necklaces in the hunter’s hand. Clint and Natasha stopped firing and turned to see what was going on. Dean handed each of them one.

“As promised,” Dean said, “an anti-possession amulet for each of you. Already gave one to Bruce, Tony, Steve, and Thor. You three are the last who need them.” Clint grunted as he quickly pulled his over his head and tucked it into his shirt, patting his hand over the top of where it lay. Natasha watched her friend from the corner of her eye as she pulled hers on as well.

“Thank you,” Cas said, pulling his on. Dean put his hands on Cas’ shoulders.

“Cas, buddy. First chance we get, yours will tattooed wherever you want it. I know a guy not far from Lebanon who will do it no questions. And once you get your angel mojo back, no one can steal your vessel again.” Cas looked like he was going to cry. Dean put his hand on the back of Cas’ neck. “Hey now, it’s what we do for family. We protect each other. You’ve protected us for years and now we get the chance to pay some of that back. Okay?”

Cas swallowed but nodded. They touched foreheads for only a few seconds before Dean turned to the assassins.

“Steve wants all of us in the library for a meeting or something in 30 minutes.” Both of them nodded and returned to their ‘drawing’. Dean was seriously impressed and found himself much happier that he was on the right side of those weapons and their wielders. He had heard about the Avengers sure, but to experience that deadly accuracy in person was chilling. “Oh, and Kev is making a grocery run list if you want anything special. I hear Tony’s paying so aim high.” Clint chuckled, then turned to look at Dean as the arrow was loosed and still landed exactly where it was supposed to. 

“Coffee and Funyons.” Clint volunteered. Dean made a face.

“Coffee and onion breath,” Natasha said with disgust. 

“I’m glad I don’t have to share a room with you,” Dean muttered as he turned and left to pass the meeting message to the trio of brainiacs. Clint chuckled again. Natasha aimed across the lanes and put a bullet in the center of the ‘forehead’ of his smiley face.

“Hey!” Clint exclaimed. Cas touched the amulet around his neck and said nothing. 


End file.
